


The Blooming Rose Special

by DragonRider1



Category: Dragon Age (Comics), Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Alternate Canon, Angst, Crossover, F/F, F/M, Ficlet Collection, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, M/M, Multi, Other, Requested Prompts, Romance, Sexual Content, Tumblr Ask Box Fic, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-25
Updated: 2015-03-08
Packaged: 2018-01-20 18:51:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 39
Words: 25,566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1521737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DragonRider1/pseuds/DragonRider1
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are many paths and journeys one can follow in Thedas, not everyone follows the same one. Even one person has a million choices before them and will stray down different or similar paths multiple times. What is your Thedas like? Where and with who does your journey end?</p><p> <i>Prompts and Pairings I fill/filled when I'm taking requests over on Tumblr</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. My Dear Heart (Romance)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Pairing** : F!Hawke/Anders  
>  **Request** : Fluff  
>  **Theme** : Warmhearted

Hawke sighed.

It was well into the night, her bedroom cast in shadows from the low light of the fireplace. She smiled as she stood up from her bed, grabbing her staff from beside the bed. A soft whine made her look back, her loyal mabari giving a soft _woof_ as if asking what she was doing. Hawke leaned over scratching behind the dog’s ear, her smile widening.

“Come on, we both know he’s not going to come home until I drag him away from his work kicking and screaming.”

The mabari seemed to give Hawke an amused look and Hawke laughed, picturing Justice whining like a child and yet being led along by a woman half his size.

Hawke patted the mabari once more before she slipped out of her room, careful not to make too much sound and wake Orana, Bodhan, or Sandal. With careful steps she made her way to the kitchen, grabbing the basket she often used and slipped a loaf of bread from the pantry in next to the bottle of wine and the candles. As quiet as she could she opened the door leading to the basements and the vaults and she closed the door behind her.

Hawke’s smile was still in place as she hummed and walked down through the basements, gracefully finding her way through the dark instead of using a flame or wisp to light her way. The weekly ritual keeping the path fresh in her mind. She stopped in the last room and her humming halted as well, she kneeled down and flipped up the trapdoor in the room.

Moonlight poured in from Darktown, lighting the ladder she crawled down. Hawke took a moment, taking in the view of the night from the Darktown windows, far-off stars sparked like a lightening spell and the moon was full, bright, and washed everything in light. It was calm and peaceful unlike Hightown during the day, here and now there were no heavy-handed Templars or foolish blood mages. It was a world Hawke wanted for herself, her heart, and her family.

Hawke strolled over to the clinic doors and he silently pushed one of them open. A grin coming to her face at the sight of Anders slumped over asleep at his desk. Shadows were thrown across his face by the low burning candle, his head rested in his folded arms, strands of his hair fell from his tail, and a bit of drool on his chin. Hawke leaned her staff beside the door, closing the door as she stepped in further and set her basket down carefully on Anders desk.

Hawke took up humming again as she straightened up the clinic, folding blankets and tucking away rolls of bandage.

“Hawke?”

“Well, good morning there, dear heart.” Hawke smirked, standing in front of Anders’ desk and watching as his rubbed his eye and wiped away his drool.

“Is it really morning?” Anders blinked, his bleary eyes focusing on her.

“Not yet, but give it a few hours.”

“I’m sorry, there was an accident in Lowtown and I had the Blooming Rose job today and then the manifesto needed atten…”

“Calm down, it is okay. I’m more worried you’ll work yourself sick than I am that you can’t come home at a decent time.” Hawke pulled a worn, wooden stool up to the other side of Anders desk. She wished she could take away that frown, the tortured mage look could only be so much fun. “Dear heart, you missed supper.”

Anders’ stomach growled in agreement, causing Hawke to laugh and Anders face to turn red. Hawke finally dipped into her basket, bringing a large candle out and replacing Anders melted candle with it. Anders took the time to light it with a flick of his wrist, Hawke taking out the loaf of bread and a knife.

“It is not as delectable as the stew Orana fixed tonight, so warm and savory.” Hawke licked her lips, pushing the bread to Anders.

“Hawke.” Anders playfully glared as his stomach rumbled again, slicing the bread in half and heating it between his fingertips.

“I don’t know what to do with you, dear heart. Food doesn’t bring you home, dry warmth doesn’t bring you home, even the prospect of a comfy bed doesn’t bring you home. I might have to start acting offended.”

“.. I love you, Hawke. You know that, right?”

“I do and I love you, I wouldn’t drag myself out of that soft, warm bed to feed you otherwise.” Hawke laughed again as Anders groaned, picturing the silks and cottons warmed by the fire and Hawke.

A comfortable silence drifted between the two of them, Hawke eventually grabbing the wine and glasses in the basket and pouring the both of them some. It was quaint, well as quaint as something could be in Darktown.

The soft light of the moon and a single candle, the echoes of the nightlife bouncing off Darktown’s open walls, and the sweet taste of Hightown wine. There weren’t many moments like this for them, it was usually group of blood mages, complement of Templars, helpless apostate, coven of blood mages, den of mercenaries, lair of blood mages…

As much as Hawke would rather have Anders asleep in her nice, extravagant bed at home, she would never give up these minuscule moments where her and Anders could just… be.

“Hawke?”

“Hm?”

“You should be getting back up to Hightown.”

“Nah, I don’t have anything better to do besides sleep and really what normal being needs sleep.”

“Fine, I get it. Go on up and I’ll be up soon.” Anders sighed, shuffling through the papers on his desk. He jumped as Hawke leaned over the desk, his eyes widening as she stopped just a few scant inches short. Her breath barely caressing his face, the scent of expensive wine and Hawke’s herbed soap surrounding him.

“Alright, but you better hurry up. I’d hate to fall asleep before getting to warm you up, dear heart.” Hawke leaned in, her soft lips pressing against Anders in the lightest of ways. Hawke pulled back as she felt Anders respond, grinning and picking up her basket and staff. “I’ll be waiting.”

Oh, did she love to make her Dear Heart skip a beat.


	2. The Walls Keep Us Safe (Romance)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Pairing** : F!Hawke/Anders  
>  **Request** : Friendmanced Anders and a Guarded, Mildly-aggressive F!Hawke  
>  **Theme** : Listening

There was only the soft crash of the waves in the distance and the crackling of the fire, Hawke could feel herself lulling to sleep. Frustrated, she stood up and began pacing around the fire, catching the attention of her companion.

“If you really want to sleep, I can keep solo watch, Hawke.” Anders looked up from his journal, the mage most likely writing more notes for his manifesto.

“No, because then someone will attack and we’ll all be dead.” Hawke sighed and flopped down back at her spot on the log, she ran her hand through her hair. She sat in silence for a moment before realizing Anders gaze was still on her, a blush crawled up her face and she glared into the fire. “What!?”

Anders let out a chuckle and Hawke could feel her face heat up even more, she turned her glare on Anders.

“You always say something and mean something else.”

“What? What are you talking about?”

“You just insulted my abilities as a fighter.”

“I—I did not! I was just—why are you trying to be insulted!” Hawke huffed, holding back the urge to punch Anders in the face.

“Beside the fact you make the most adorable faces?” Anders chuckled again, looking far too smug. “What you really meant was that you were worried I’d be jumped and I just think it’s interesting that you have this roundabout way of caring, like Isabela.”

“Is that so, are you a mind-reading mage now?”

“No—but I wish I was, I’d love to know what you think of me.”

“Anders, what…” Hawke folded her arms over her chest, fighting away the hopeful feeling in her chest, pushing down the blush on her cheeks, and choosing instead to stare out into the darkness. Silence once again ruling over the two of them.

“I was like you once—uh, not a woman or intimidating or anything. I was just as guarded though, I used humor and passive-aggressiveness to bring up my issues.”

“And you don’t now? Could have fooled me.” Hawke looked over and grinned at Anders’ deadpan expression.

“Look, before Justice I was okay being an unheard voice in a crowd and keeping everything bottle up. When I joined with Justice, it—it gave me someone to trust and open up to. Its okay to be restrained, I understand that you probably wouldn’t have made this far otherwise. Just know Hawke, there should be a moment where you can be open with at least one person.” Anders smiled, before going back to his journal.

Hawke stared into the fire again, turning the thought over in her mind. Her eyes trailing over to Anders, taking in his soft pallor lit by the fire and his deep brown eyes glowing with the same fire. What if she wanted that one person to be him, the one person she could bare her soul to.

“Anders? Before, I— the Maker knows I’m a frigid person and I don’t know how you look past that, but just—just know that what I think of you is the highest regards.”

“Thank you.” Anders didn’t look up, but Hawke could see the smile on his face. “And Hawke, I think you are a strong, beautiful woman and I’m always willing to listen.”


	3. The Quiet Seeps In (Romance)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Pairing** : M!Hawke/Fenris  
>  **Request** : Sassy Hawke and Friendmanced Fenris, gender of Hawke doesn't matter.  
>  **Theme** : Too Quiet

"Hmm, someone could mistaken this place for a brewery with stench in this place."

"Go away, Hawke." Fenris slumped in his chair and watched the fire burn, frankly he didn’t want to deal with Hawke today.

"So much brooding in such a small package… well maybe not that small." Hawke finally walked through the door, grinning as he sauntered up to Fenris.

"Hawke, I swear."

"Are you still mad about the whole thing with Varric and Isabela?" Hawke’s smile widened as Fenris glared up at him.

"It was not necessary to share everything with them."

"Aw come on, it wasn’t everything! Don’t you want Varric’s story to be accurate? ‘And then the elf who was incredibly well-endowed, swept Hawke under him and taught the Champion what it really meant to…"

"HAWKE!" Fenris slammed the bottle in his hand down on the table, his face warm with embarrassment. "Did you need something?" Fenris sighed in defeat and Hawke gave his own sigh.

"Well, Bodhan and Sandal are actually putting on a musical and let me tell you, Sandal, amazing voice seriously. Bodhan and my mutt though, Maker save those two and I think I saw Orana climbing up the chimney with a sack. It is a mad house, I tell you." Hawke sat down on the bench across from Fenris, a softer smile on his face.

"It was too quiet then?"

"Maker, yes! They just stand there as quiet as can be and stare, you think someone had just—died." Hawke’s smile disappeared and he turned to look in the fire, no matter how many years passed there would be no reprieve from that memory. Especially when the Knight Commander was constantly bringing it up as an argument, Fenris had done the same once and swore to never do so again after seeing what it did to Hawke.

"I’m sorry, Hawke… would you like some wine?" Fenris gave a small smile of his own, holding an unopened bottle out to Hawke.

"Thought you would never ask." Hawke smile returned, half-cocked. He pulled the cork and took a swig, a smug look overtaking his face again. "By the way, I might have shared your magnificent reach with Varric, but your flexibility… well, we’ll just keep that between us… maybe Isabela."

Fenris sent Hawke another glare, feeling the heat rush to his face again.

"Hawke!"

"I love you too, Broody."


	4. Poor Sweet Thing (Romance)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Pairing** : F!Hawke/Isabela  
>  **Request** : Sassy F!Hawke w/ Friendmanced Isabela  
>  **Theme** : Joking

"Better keep up or are you getting old in your age, Bela!?" Hawke laughed and she jumped across another gap. She heard a quick swish and ducked, hearing the throwing knife thunk into the wall of an estate before she saw it. "THE FUCK, ISABELA!"

"Sorry, sweetness. I promise I won’t miss next time, I just know how much that bothers you.”

"Maker! It was just a joke!" Hawke stopped, watching Isabela warily as she waited. Isabela gracefully leaped from the last roof, landing on the same one as Hawke.

"No one jokes about my skills, sweetness." Isabela placed her hands on hips and leaned in, smiling as if she hadn’t just threw a blade at Hawke’s back.

"I would never question your skills, Isabela. Although that was a wide throw, even for a deliberate miss." Hawke smirked leaning in as well. The scent of sweet rum lingering around her, as Isabela’s breath caressed her lips.

"Was it now, sweet thing?" Isabela’s smile twisting into her own devious smirk, her every word felt by Hawke. Isabela cupped Hawke’s chin, pulling her closer. The taste of something sweet, wild, and refreshing hit Hawke as Isabela sealed their lips. The kiss felt as if someone distilled the very sea and allowed Isabela to swallow it whole, much like her very presence was doing to Hawke. Isabela’s more ample body pressing into Hawke until she was leaning back on a cupola, Isabela running her hands along Hawke’s clothes and spreading her lover out before her. 

Isabela pulled away, smirking. She stood up, looking down at Hawke with her arms crossed. Hawke took the challenge, going to reach for Isabela only to stop short… very short. Hawke looked between her arms, seeing them pinned down to the structure with knives.

"Isabela!"

"You have fun now sweetness." Isabela walked back the way they had come, skipping over the roofs with ease and not glancing back. She merely tossed a wave over her shoulder. "See you back at home, Hawke!"

"ISABELA! WAIT! DON’T LEAVE ME HERE! COME BACK! I LOVE YOU! PLEASE!"

Isabela was a Maker damned cheat and scoundrel—and Andraste’s fine ass did Hawke love her. 

"BELA!"


	5. Warmth and Wine (Romance)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Pairing** : Maevaris/Thorold  
>  **Request** : Maevaris Tilani and Thorold  
>  **Theme** : One Moment

Maevaris swirled the wine in her glass, watching the fire die in the fireplace. She laid out on her chaise longue, waiting for the return of her darling husband.

She knew she was trying sometimes, with her duties to the Imperium. While he was out dealing with the Merchant’s Guild and lyrium transports, she was off performing rituals and furthering her research. Most of the time they spent together was for publicity sake, fancy parties and magnificent balls.

No sometimes they needed time for themselves, just the two of them. The lavish Magister and her doting dwarven husband.

"Mae, I am a little late. I apologize." Thorold walked through the door, carrying another bottle of wine and offering her a soft smile. He sat the bottle down on the table, giving Maevaris a light kiss.

"My dear husband, I’m not going to have to punish you am I?" Maevaris sat up further, making room for Thorold and patting the cushion beside her.

"Depends, darling. What did you have in mind?" Thorold sat down, smiling wide. Maevaris lightly tugged Thorold over, the dwarf laying his head in her lap and her fingers lightly running through his long dwarven locks and along his beard.

"Something slow to start out with, maybe something with feathers, then a little rope, and finish off with my new leather and this lightening spell I’ve perfected." Maevaris smiled down at her husband, leaning down to press a soft kiss on his forehead.

"That sounds delightful, love."

"Mmm, doesn’t it. Perhaps later though, for now this is wonderful." Maevaris took another sip of her wine, going back to watching the fire. Now if only she could find a spell to make time stand still, for this is all she needed in life, the warmth, the wine, the title, and her darling husband.


	6. Ensorceled (Romance)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Pairing** : Cullen/F!Amell  
>  **Request** : F!Amell and Cullen fic  
>  **Theme** : Beginning

It was all so different then their training. Greagoir had mentioned that the trainees always seemed wet behind the ears and how frustrating it was, having to reteach most of the basics to men who should be ready for this sort of thing.

If he was being honest, Cullen never really paused to think how hard being a Templar was. He had always held the position in a glamoured view and now that he was here, it was...something. He believed in the Maker and his bride who died for the cause. He was actually very pious in his own way, he just couldn’t understand why mages were so feared. In the last few months, where he was introduced to Circle mage after Circle mage, he only saw them as people, people with a Maker-blessed ability to help others.

He had escorted mages across the lake and seen them set up small, temporary shelters for healing passerbys. He had watched mages study and comb through piles upon piles of books, finding a long lost potion to get rid of dragon pox. He’d even seen some mages putting on light shows and mock duels for the children bought to the Circle, drying the same childrens’ tears and rocking them to sleep.

Actually, it would probably be better to say he had saw a mage do those things. There were others that did those things too, but none did as many things as she did.

Amell. He never really got her first name, but then it didn’t matter. Greagoir and Irving said she would be the next up for her Harrowing, thus they assigned Cullen to watch over her. He was to report back to them if he thought she was not ready or if she was dabbling in things she shouldn’t. Not that she would, she was a favorite of Irving’s. Always walking around with her nose in a book, offering a greeting to every Templar, Mage, and/or visitor she came across, and helping many others with their own lessons. She was the ideal of a Circle mage and frankly, a very beautiful woman.

"Good afternoon, Cullen."

"Oh…uh, hello Amell." He was thankful he was wearing his helmet this time, though it brought up the subject of how she had know it was him. He looked down at her. She was small, but then most of the mages were. Her bright eyes stared up at him with a playfulness and she held up the book in her hand.

"I was just going to head to the library to pick up a few more books on stars. I figured you probably wanted to trail behind, thinking I wouldn’t notice." Amell smiled smugly, tapping the book against his armor. The loud clangs echoing in the room and Cullen noticed the other Templars send him a look, Maker he’d hear this one from Greagoir later.

"Oh, no. I think I’ll stay here."

“Psh, I’m not stupid. I know I’m being trailed, I don’t know why, but I know it’s happening. And the very least the nice, strong Templar doing said trailing can do for me, is help carry my finished books back to the library. Please, Ser Cullen.” Amell looked up at him with big, bright eyes and her lip practically quivered. Cullen could feel the blood run into his cheeks and his armor get stuffier.

"I—I suppose."

"Excellent!" Amell shoved a pile of books in his arms and picked up the other pile, starting out for the library. She waited outside the room for Cullen and he trudged alongside her, listening to her hum as they walked. "You know, Ser Cullen. If there were more Templars like you, the Circle wouldn’t be so bad."

"Thank—thank you…the world needs more mages like you."

“Hah, try telling Greagoir that—but thank you. For everything.”

Cullen had a small, sad, smile under his helmet. He pitied the Templar chosen to strike her down, should she fail her Harrowing. That Templar could be taking one of the greatest mages he had every known, from a world who needed her so greatly.


	7. I Won't Say It (Romance)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Pairing** : Jowan/F!Surana  
>  **Request** :Young apprentice F!Surana and Jowan, an unbeknownst one-sided crush the former has for the latter.  
>  **Theme** : Annoyance

He had the most annoyingly perfect face ever since he was a child. Surana had grown up with Jowan and watched him go from adorably boyish to handsomely rugged, it wasn’t fair. No one else she knew had a face that could show every emotion so—teasingly, the slightest smirk from him and she babbled like an idiot. 

Surana sighed and tucked a piece of hair behind her pointed ear and out of her face, the volume of hexes in front of her was long forgotten. She watched Jowan from across the room, his charming laugh reaching her as he taunted the mage he was currently dueling. 

It wasn’t fair at all, she was reserved. She talked only when spoken too, when she did speak it was far too quiet, and she was so easily overwhelmed by crowds. She was a tiny, withdrawn elf. She was the exact opposite of Jowan and even Amell, still those two kept her company on most days, Jowan more so than Amell. 

“There you are! I’ve been looking for you everywhere.” Jowan plopped down across from her and Surana jumped. Apparently the duel had finished while she was off flitting through her head, and if that damning smile was any indication Jowan had won. 

“Then you didn’t look everywhere. I’ve been here since lunch.” Surana slumped in her seat, burying her nose back into the creation of curses. She liked having Jowan close by, but there was also the nagging of her introverted self that just wanted to ignore him and hoped he’d just go away…and take the pesky thoughts she was having with him. 

“Hmm. You saw my duel right?" 

“I have better things than to watch you duel, Jowan.” 

“Come on, you had to at least glance over, right? How do you think I did?” 

She felt Jowan’s hand on hers, her instant reaction was to jump and she jerked her hand away. She glared down at the words before her, feeling heat crawl up her neck. Why, why was it him? 

“Go ask Amell! I’m busy.” 

“Please, I—you’re the best dueler here. Do you think it was good?” Surana finally looked up, her heart ached as he saw the desperate look on his face. He had once said he felt he could share anything with her and he’d know she would never tell anyone else. It had seemed like a joke then, a prod at her aloofness, up until he shared his fear of being tranquil. 

“It was great Jowan, keep it up and you’ll be ready for your Harrowing in no time.” She offered a smile, her heart thudding hard when he gave her his own bewitching smile. 

“Yeah, but I suppose I’m nowhere near as good as Irving’s favorite, huh.” Jowan laughed and reached over, ruffling Surana’s hair. Surana pouted, glaring up at him with reddened cheeks and he laughed again. “I’m going to go to the chapel, I’ll see you later.” 

Surana slumped as he stood up and walked away, hating how her cheeks were flushed, how her heart thumped so hard she could almost hear it, and how the stupid mage she grew up with had her so viciously wrapped around his magic-wielding fingers. The words of one of her mentor’s from when she was little echoing in her mind, the reason most mages, why she, appalled these—feelings. 

_'Love is ultimately selfish. It demands that one be devoted to a single person, who may fully occupy one's mind and heart, to the exclusion of all else. To the exclusion of your safety and others, something mages cannot afford.'_


	8. A Martyr, A Traitor (Romance)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Pairing** : Jowan/Amell  
>  **Request** : cute/romantic Jowan and Amell  
>  **Theme** : Sunset

The training room ceiling was kind of pretty this time of day, the setting sun filtered into the stained glass windows and painted the ceiling in a multitude of colors. The room empty as most of the other apprentices and the Templars were off finishing up with supper or studying in the library before bed. 

"What are you doing?" 

"Maker? Is that you? If so, I’m sorry! I apologize for setting Leorah’s hair on fire and putting the itching dust in the Templars’ knickers… actually that was pretty fun…anyways, Maker, have mercy on me!" Amell sighed dramatically from her place on the floor, throwing her arm over her eyes. 

"I’ll never understand how someone as melodramatic as you could be Irving’s best student." 

"…However, if it is not the Maker and merely Jowan, he can sod off and leave me on the floor." Amell glanced from under her arm, seeing Jowan leaning in the doorway of the room. He shook his head at her antics, a dashing smile on his face. 

"So, what are you doing?" Jowan strolled into the room, looking down at Amell and she grinned. She lifted her arm from her face and reached over, grabbing onto the end of Jowan’s robe and tugging it to get him to lay down with her. Jowan gave in and plopped down beside her, looking up at the colorful ceiling too. 

"See, it’s lovely, isn’t it?" 

"I suppose, but I’ve seen lovelier things." 

"Oh, like what?" 

"Well…there’s you." 

"Flatter." Amell grinned again and turned on her side, snuggling against her charming mage’s side. Jowan tucked one of his arms under her head, allowing her to turn it and continue to look at the waning rainbow on the ceiling. His other arm was tucked behind his own head, Amell seeing him softly staring at her from the corner of her eye. 

"I wish we had more of this, away from the eyes of the Templar and free to just be." Jowan sighed, his fingers lightly plucking at her hair. 

"One day Jowan, we just have to keep fighting for it." 

"Yeah…I’ll get it for us, no matter…no matter what stands in our way. Soon, I promise." Jowan turned his head, resting it against hers and she smiled. With Jowan be her side they could do it, they’d find a way to make it work.


	9. Marigolds and Coppers (Romance)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Pairing** : Aveline Vallen/Donnic Hendyr  
>  **Request** : cute/romantic/fluff Aveline and Donnic, doesn't matter if it is before or after the wedding  
>  **Theme** : Anniversary

She dug her feet into the ground, pushing with all her might into the force thrown against her. Her enemy looking her dead in the eyes and then she smirked, watching his determined look go to sheer confusion and maybe even a bit of fear. With a bit more thrust behind her shield, her opponent was thrown backwards and the sword speared downwards into the dirt beside his head. 

"I believe that is another win for me?" Aveline smiled wide and offered Donnic her hand, tugging him up rather easily. 

"I believe that makes the five wins, Guard Captain." Donnic sighed and gave a smile of his own. 

"Not falling behind on the job are you, Guardsman?" Aveline playfully nudged him with her shoulder, reaching down and retrieving her sword.  

"What can I say, Captain. I like _serving_ under you.” Donnic coughed into his hand to hide his smile and Aveline shook her head. This was obviously _her_ influence. Next time Donnic went for a game at the Hanged Man, she was going along, if only to ring the neck of a certain pirate. “So is training over for the day, Captain?” 

"What are you tired already?" Aveline sheathed her sword and swung her shield onto her back, nevertheless. She turned to Donnic, finding him closer. The musk of polish, steel, and sweat lingered in the air, Aveline folded her arms and looked at him expectantly. 

"Not really. See, Captain, I have this wonderful, loving wife and it just so happens to be our first anniversary. I was hoping to get home early, maybe fix a hot, decent dinner and spend the night with her." 

"That does sound nice, but I don’t know, Guardsman. I might be needing another body on the night shift." 

"Surely there is something I can do, Captain?" Donnic leaned in closer and Aveline smiled. 

"I suppose I can let you off, for a kiss." 

"A kiss it is then." Donnic chuckled and leaned in the rest of the way, the kiss sweet and lingering. One of his hands pulling her closer and his roughened thumb softly caressed along her cheek, the touch of his lips as delicate. Aveline’s arms wrapped loosely around Donnic’s neck and she leaned in, tasting the bitter, tartness of Donnic that she had come to love. 

Eventually Donnic pulled away and rested his forehead against hers, Aveline stared up into his large, brown eyes with her usual subtle smile. 

"Happy Anniversary, Aveline." 

"Happy Anniversary, Donnic."


	10. When the Dust Clears (Romance)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Pairing** : Cullen/Amell  
>  **Request** : Cullen/Amell fluff, after DA2  
>  **Theme** : Reunion

"So, it’s Knight Commander Cullen, now?" 

Cullen jerked and looked up from his desk, his eyes flying to Amell leaning in the doorway. Her blue and silver armor flashing in the candlelight and Cullen fumbled for words. 

Surely it was a dream, maybe a nightmare. Maybe he was still back in Kinloch Hold, a desire demon picking at his mind and bones, trying to get every last taste. 

"Hey, hey. Cullen, calm down. It’s me, just me. Go on, check." 

He didn’t know how she had gotten to him so fast, but the warmth of her as she held his head to her chest and the bittersweet scent of magic and elfroot relaxed him. He closed his eyes and whispered a soft prayer under his breath, the fact the warmth was still there and that she had joined him in the prayer calmed him further. Finally he let off a pulse of Cleanse and buried himself further into her embrace as she trembled, but did not evaporate. 

"Amell." He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her into his lap and off her weakened legs, the recruit applications on his desk long forgotten as he was surrounded by her presence. Her very being always overwhelming and yet comforting. 

"It’s been awhile, hasn’t it? Have you been getting my letters?" Amell smiled again and ran her fingers through his hair and along his cheek, the faint touch of magic lingering and warming him. 

"I have… I’ve missed you." 

"And I you, but I always come back. Stronger and more beautiful than ever." She laughed and pressed a light kiss to his forehead. 

"Always. It’s…it’s been trying." Cullen sighed and looked up at her, her fingers coming up again and smoothing over his brow. She grinned and a healing spell drifted over him, the headache he originally had coming on faded away. 

"Our entire life has been trying…it will continue to be trying, but I’m here Cullen. You don’t have to face the demons alone." 

"Thank you." Cullen gentle grasped the hand Amell had on his face and he leaned up sealing his lips over hers in a sweet kiss, finding even the taste of her, lyrium and tea, soothing. 

The Knight Commander of Kirkwall and the Hero of Fereldan, what ~~would~~ could they say?


	11. Winter's Kiss (Romance)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Pairing** : Tamlen/F!Mahariel  
>  **Request** : F!Mahariel/Tamlen fluff  
>  **Theme** : Cold

It was so cold, the winter clutching at the clans backside as they were slowly migrating away from it. The halla had been slow to start in the beginning and thus the chill creeping in as the clan was just creeping out.

"Cold there, _lethallan_?"

Mahariel nodded, seeing Tamlen sit down beside her on the log. She huddled closer to him and pressed against his side, finally warming up as she was warmed by both her fire and Tamlen.

"I do not know how the flat-ears do it, surely their ears would snap off in the frost." Mahariel curled in on herself and carefully rubbed her ears, trying to get the blood flowing back in them.

"I suppose that is why they are flat-eared, _ma vhenan_." Tamlen’s amused tone no doubt accompanied by a delicious smirk, but Mahariel refused to come out of her ball of heat to see.

She heard Tamlen sigh and felt him shift, a soft whine coming from her as he moved away and she lost the heat.

"Hush, _ma vhenan_. You want to get warm don’t you."

Mahariel jumped and slid downwards as a thick wolf’s fur was thrown over her and she was nudged off the log with someone’s knee. She chanced a glance, giving up on her ice-cold ears and she looked back. She jerked again seeing Tamlen sit down behind her looking amused, he gathered her up in her arms and pulled her up against him. The heat from the fire, the fur, and Tamlen seeping in on her.

"Better, _ma vhenan_?"

"Much, although my ears are still cold." Mahariel smiled and stared into the fire, expecting some smart retort about her never being pleased. Instead she froze as she felt a hot puff of breath against her ear and her cheeks flushed with more heat. "Tam—Tamlen?"

"You said your ears are cold, yes? May I warm them up?" Tamlen chuckled and Mahariel shivered, and it had nothing to do with the cold. Mahariel nodded, not trusting her voice at the moment.

Tamlen nipped gently at her sensitive ear and her entire being stilled, even her heart seemed to stop for a moment. The wet warmth of his breath caressed over the point of it, warming her entire body and instantly getting the blood flowing back into both of her frozen ears.

" _Ma’arlath, ma vhenan_." The pleasant whisper against her delicate ear was enough to keep her cozy for the rest of the night.

" _Ma’arlath_ , Tamlen."


	12. Behind Closed Doors (Romance)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Pairing** : Gorim/F!Aeducan  
>  **Request** : F!Aeducan and Gorim  
>  **Theme** : Caught

Lady Aeducan had never been so amused and so frightened at the same time. She didn’t know whether to laugh or bury herself under her blankets and never come out. Though she realized she was probably the only one who would be able to find this funny, since she had the luxury of still being fully dressed.

"Prince Trian! Prince Bhelen!" Gorim stumbled off her bed, fumbling for words and his pants. He managed to grab onto one of those things and slipped into his breeches, offering a bow as he tried to compose himself.

"Ah, it looks like dear sister is dipping into the Warrior Caste. Or rather it’s dipping into her." Bhelen at least found some humor in it, but then it wasn’t him she was intimated by.

"Leave!" Trian glared at Gorim and her faithful second bowed again, she found more admiration from him as he managed to leave the room in a very even pace. Though she also knew he was probably about ready to shit himself, expecting the future King to run him through the next time he saw him.

Trian settled his disapproving look on her and she huffed, crossing her arms.

"You will stop acting like a child!" Trian stood before her, folding his arms as well and towering over her.

"Then stop treating me as one!"

"What do you think Father will say when I tell him of your affair."

"Before or after I remind him of all the Noble Hunters you’ve had in your bed!"

"You will watch your tone when you speak to me. You are an Aeducan woman and you will act as such. This is a warning, little sister, if I catch you again he will taste my steel." Trian turned and stomped out, Bhelen offering her a look of pity before strolling after him.

"He can go suck a nug, damn dirt licker."

"That is hardly the language expected from you, my lady." Gorim hovered in the doorway, glancing down the hall and coughing into his hand to hide his smile.

"As an Aeducan? Or a woman? According to Trian, I am barely either." Lady Aeducan sighed, curling up on her bed. "Listen to me, disrespecting my kin and future king. Trian is my brother and I love him dearly, but sometimes, he just looks at me like I’m some casteless unworthy of his presence. He wasn’t always like that, we used to be close."

"Perhaps it is merely the stress of being the next ruler, heavy on his shoulders. Although, my lady, I am more inclined in believing its jealousy." Gorim step up beside her and placed a hand on her shoulder, she leaned into his touch.

"Jealous of what?" She looked up at Gorim and cocked her head, Gorim smiled and used the back of his hand to brush one of her braids from her face. 

"You are very strong, very beautiful, very influential, and very well liked my lady. There is talk that you may be chosen as the next ruler."

"Oh? I suppose I have my King picked already. Of course it will all have to be done very official then." Lady Aeducan laughed as Gorim shook his head and sighed, both of them knowing how unsettled the Assembly would be by her taking anything less than a noble as her betrothed. Not mention what should happen if the Aeducan heir ended up being a boy, thus reducing her to Warrior Caste.

She reached up and laced her hand with Gorim’s placing a kiss on it.

"I figured Trian would appeal to that idea, there is no way the Assembly would place me on the throne with a lower caste lover. But I suppose there is some of brother left that still cares. A shame, considering the fine dwarven arse I managed to get a glimpse of."

"My Lady!"

Lady Aeducan’s laugh bellowed through the hall only to be silenced a moment later by a sly kiss from her beloved second. Dwarven politics be damned.


	13. Given Fever (Romance)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Pairing** : F!Mahariel/Tamlen  
>  **Request** : More F!Mahariel and Tamlen please  
>  **Theme** : Warm

Mahariel had a smug smile on her face as she entered the aravel, poor, little Tamlen flopping onto the cot and struggling with his covers.

"Too hot, _lethallin_?" Mahariel laughed at the glare Tamlen sent her, she sat down on the floor beside his cot and carefully leaned against one of the aravel’s posts.

"I am not in the mood for your jeers, _lethallan_." Tamlen folded his arms and stared up at the ceiling, his cheeks flushed with warmth and his sky blue eyes glossed over with illness.

"Does not mean I don’t find it any less amusing."

Tamlen huffed and kicked the furs off of him to cool down, Mahariel coughing into her fist to hide her small squeak of surprise. Her eyes adverted from the sight of Tamlen dressed down in nothing but his loincloth, choosing to stare at Marethari’s weaved landscapes on the wall.

"It serves you right, Tamlen. You shouldn’t have been out hunting, by yourself mind you. Who knows what would have happened if Fenarel hadn’t come across you floating down river." Mahariel sighed, chancing a glance at Tamlen and seeing him still staring at the roof.

"I’m fine _ma vhenan_ , I just slipped."

"My question is why you left alone, in the first place."

"I was tracking a black bear."

"Bleeding thorns! Thank the Gods you didn’t find it then! You could have been mauled, Tamlen!" Mahariel sent a disapproving look at Tamlen and he finally looked over at her sadly, she suddenly felt guilty having caused him pain.

"You don’t believe in my skills, _ma vhenan_?"

"Tamlen, I didn’t mean…"

"I need something special, _ma vhenan_." Tamlen reached out and laid his hand on Mahariel’s cheek. His skin burning with fever and far too hot against her cooler skin, still she leaned into the touch with confusion on her face. "A simple wolf’s pelt or stag skin won’t do. I want to show the whole clan, I want show you, _ma vhenan_ , that I am worthy of you. That I can care for us on my own."

"Tamlen…" Mahariel smiled and placed her colder hand on top of his. "You don’t have to prove that to anyone, Tamlen. Least of all me. I’d rather have a wolf’s hide and you alive, _ma vhenan_. And you don’t have to do it on your own, when you get better we can go hunting for that bear together, okay?"

Tamlen nodded and Mahariel’s smile grew. She leaned in further pressing a cool kiss on his fevered forehead and resting her chin on the cot, watching Tamlen as his hand moved up to play with her hair and casually stroke her ears. Small bursts of heat warming through her, while she trailed her cooler fingers along Tamlen’s cheek to cool him down.

That is where Keeper Marethari found the clan’s favorite _da’len_ come nightfall, Talen’s fingers intertwined with hers as they slept through the night.


	14. Too Much Tension (Romance)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Pairing** : M!Cousland/Morrigan  
>  **Request** : M!Cousland and Morrigan trying to be lovey dovey, but both of their egos make it awkward.  
>  **Theme** : Public Affection

Cousland sighed, watching the drunk dwarf and the easy elf hop onto the bar and they started singing a drunken tune. Maker help him, he needed allies, but sometimes what he had to deal with was ridiculous.

"Enjoying the show, my dear warden?" Morrigan sauntered over and placed herself beside him on the bench at the table, her gold eyes watching his exasperation with amusement.

"Hardly, I may actually let you set them on fire this time."

"It is an enticing idea."

"Mmhm."

Silence drifted between the two of them, while an argument sprung up between Zevran and Oghren about the proper way to kill a king. Cousland blocking them out and instead looked over at Morrigan.

She was such a beautiful, powerful, wild woman. He found himself constantly thinking of her and appreciating her company, often finding himself wanting to show her his thanks as well. Well… in a way that did not involve a tent or a room, something driven by love and not lust.

"So…you look…lovely today." Cousland shifted his eyes back to the debacle between Zevran and Oghren, unsure if he wanted to see her reaction.

"I have heard this from the bard already. I have not changed anything."

"Well, you are beautiful nevertheless." Cousland shifted stiffly in his seat and his gaze trailed back over, seeing Morrigan looking much like himself. A struggle going on beneath her cool exterior.

"I—thank you, you are handsome, as always." Morrigan raising her hand, only to hesitate before dropping it on the table.

"Thank you…" Cousland coughed, Maker help him this wasn’t working. Trying a different approach Cousland leaned backwards and carefully set his arm behind Morrigan, the witch stiffening as she felt it. He watched her lean towards him, before stopping herself and uncertain about following through. Cousland feeling unsure himself all of a sudden and pulling his arm back, setting his hands on his knees and gripping his trousers tightly.

"Ugh, I don’t know if this is just painful or a Maker’s send." Alistair slid into the seat across from the two of them, Cousland feeling the temperature around them drop as Morrigan glared at Alistair.

"What is it you’re going on about, fool?"

"Watching the two of you in public, it is painful watching the two of you _trying_ to be affectionate. On the plus side, I’m not forced to watch the two all over each other.

"You know nothing!" The air around Morrigan sparking.

"Oh, did I hit a nerve?" Alistair chuckled, the smug look on his face making Cousland glare at him too.

"We are fine! If I wish to show my affection, I can!" Morrigan looking positively livid, her glare seeking to burn a hole through Alistair by now.

"Sure, I would never doubt a cold-hearted woman like yourself."

Morrigan seemed to let a small growl, Cousland jumping at the sound. He jolted as Morrigan suddenly straddled him and kissed him hard. Her surprisingly soft lips sliding against his and her wild taste surrounding him as she kissed him thoroughly. She pulled away with a scowl and a thick blush on her cheeks, Cousland not looking much better with his wide eyes.

A delayed, surprised sound slipped out of Alistair and it brought the two lovers back. Cousland clearing his throat and Morrigan glaring harder at his chest, no doubt picturing Alistair instead.

"That was…interesting." Cousland hesitating for a moment, his hands hovering in the air unsure what to do. Morrigan eventually pulled herself out of his lap and sat back down, acting as if the moment had never happened.

"Um—uh—going—now." Alistair pulled himself up from the table and walked away, his face red and his entire being trembled.

"That was—nice, I would not be—opposed of doing that more." Morrigan leaned back, peeking at Cousland from the corner of her eye before focusing back on Oghren and Zevran. The two buffoons wrestling each other in the middle of the tavern.

"Certainly not."


	15. Serrah Lord and Ser Knight (Romance)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Pairing** : M!Cousland/Ser Gilmore  
>  **Request** : Teenage M!Cousland wants to admit his feelings for Teenage!Gilmore in the library  
>  **Theme** : Confession

Fergus always told him how funny it was, watching his younger brother make a fool of himself around his fancies. He constantly let his mouth get away from him, letting things better left in his mind slip out. Of course, when Fergus would get too insufferable Cousland would remind Fergus that his older brother’s very beautiful and very pregnant wife was looking for him. Oriana was a very nice and loving woman, when she wasn’t out to kill her husband.

Either way, Cousland acknowledged he was a horrible mess when he started liking someone; yet nothing was ever as bad as when he made a complete ass of himself around Gilmore. He grew up with Gilmore, Roderick’s father sending him to Highever to be the Teyrn’s squire. The boys spent lot of time sparring and their skills quickly grew above those of the other knights, which is why his father was going to be naming Roderick a knight soon. Ser Roderick Gilmore, confidant of Bryce’s youngest…the love of Bryce’s youngest.

Cousland sighed, placing the book in his hands down. He leaned back in his chair and stared at the stack of books on the desk in front of him. _The Art of Passionate Love_ did nothing to—help him, sort of. Dear Maker above, what kind of book collection did his Grandfather collect.  
Maybe this was just stupid, maybe it really was just a fancy and it was all in Cousland’s head. Maybe this would just ruin everything and Gilmore would just leave. Maybe he wouldn’t even show up.

"My lordship?"

Well shit.

"In—in here Gilmore." Cousland cleared his throat and stood, tucking the book back in the desk drawer with the others and locking it. He stood full height and folded his arms over his chest, trying to find some air of confidence and status. Gilmore entered the room, the low burn of the candles chiseling out his features further and Cousland smiled at the sight.

"Up late, reading again? I find it hard to believe you haven’t read every book in the library already." Gilmore shut the door behind him and leaned back on it, Cousland merely nodded and moved to lean on the front of the desk. Gilmore’s look of amusement dropping away.

"Is everything okay, my lordship? You said you wanted to speak with me."

"It’s—uh—I’m fine. I—I’ve got—Father and I went to look at the pups today." Cousland wanted to smack himself, Maker save him for being a damn coward.

"I heard, I also heard one of them took a liking to you. It’ll be something, having your own mabari hound." Gilmore’s bright smile made Cousland feel warm and he let out a small choked sound, Gilmore’s concern returning.

"My lordship, are you sure you’re okay? If you are getting sick, I can help you to bed."

"I’d rather help you into my bed." Cousland’s face went completely red, as did Gilmore’s. Andraste’s breath, reading that book before this was as bad of an idea as Cousland thought. "I—that didn’t come out right! What I meant was—dear Maker, let the Void take me now."

A thick silence settled over the two of them, Cousland hiding his face in his hands and he refused to look up at the horror no doubt gracing Gilmore’s handsome face.

Suddenly the silence broke as Gilmore let out a chuckle and Cousland had an immediate need to find a hole to bury himself in.

"That—that is a rather enticing offer, my lordship."

Cousland jerked his head up and stared at Gilmore.

"What?"

"Though we would have to be quiet, I don’t fancy waking the Teyrn or your brother up."

"I—I—um—what?" Cousland’s only thought was to blink and breath. Was Gilmore messing with him?

It only took Gilmore two strides before he was in front of Cousland, Cousland’s eyes widening as they stood face to face and he could feel Gilmore’s sweetened breaths.

"I am yours, my lord. Since the day I’ve started serving under your father, until the day I serve under you." Gilmore gave Cousland one more smile, before leaning in and pressing his rough lips against Cousland. Cousland’s fingers finding their way in the other man’s hair and he took control the way a noble should, pressing the soon-to-be knight closer to him and steadily moved the both of them forwards. Cousland kept going until Gilmore was pressed up against the wall and he finally pulled back, licking the taste of cherry tarts from his lips.

"I do suppose it wouldn’t hurt if you started serving under me now."


	16. To be Just a Human, Just an Elf (Romance)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Pairing** : F!Surana/Cullen  
>  **Request** : F!Surana and Cullen fluff  
>  **Theme** : A Being

She was the last mage to sneak out of her bunk at night, one of Irving’s favorites and a very obedient, reserved mage. It was temptation that drove her to do it though, a slippery slope if she was not careful.

With the quiet steps and careful uses of shadows, she slowly made her way to the cathedral. She slipped in to the room, freezing as she saw shadows within the corner. A hand shot out, covering her mouth and an arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her backwards. She thrashed against the hold, wondering if this is the part where she gets made Tranquil. 

"Calm down, please. It’s me."

Surana relaxed in the hold, immediately. The rough whisper of a certain Templar against her pointed ear.

"Don’t scream, I’m going to take my hand away." Cullen’s hand dropped away and Surana relaxed further, a smile coming to her face as she laid her hands on the arm still around her waist.

It was different, this was different. Before this he was always in his armor, never could she feel his warmth and softness. She would have never dreamed of this a month ago, never thought that when she had been unable to sleep and then sneaked out of the apprentice quarters that she would have ran into a Templar who didn’t strike her down on sight. Over that time they had grown close, the reserved mage and the curious Templar. She had seen his face on a few occasions, but never this, never him without his body armor.

"You’re soft." Surana reached for his other arm and brought his hand before her, she pressed a kiss to it and rested it on her cheek. There was not cold metal or fear of being scratched by gauntlets.

"Oh—uh- well the gauntlets. You—you are too."

She imagined his face had to be red and she stifled a giggle, carefully turning in his arms. His face as red as she thought and he dropped his arms, so both wrapped around her. She pressed a kiss to his jaw, trailing down to his neck and nuzzling at the skin there. His stubble pricking along her face and making her content.

She could feel his warmth, touch his smooth skin, feel the rough patch of stubble, smell the lingering scent of metal and soap. He was human, a person, a being. He wasn’t some monster, some armored soldier out for blood. She was an elf, a person, a being. She wasn’t some abomination, some magic wielding demon with a taste for blood. Here there were no mages or Templars, no oppressors or oppressed, no murders or victims. Here He was hers and she his and that was all she needed.


	17. Promise Forever (Romance)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Pairing** : F!Amell/Jowan  
>  **Request** : F!Amell conscripts Jowan into the Wardens.  
>  **Theme** : Choices

She is there when he wakes up, her eyes soft and sad. Her fingers running through his hair and his head in her lap, a metallic, musty, bitter taste in his mouth.

Blood.

Darkspawn blood if he was being thorough.

"Good morning, my love."

"Amell, I…"

She closes her eyes and he can feel the magic in her fingertips brush against him, so sad and broken.

"I—I just, why Jowan? Why blood magic?" Her eyes open again and linger on him and he doesn’t know where to begin. He was scared, he wanted them free and happy, he didn’t want to be Tranquil. He didn’t want to bear the thoughts and feelings, the love he had for her taken away by their oppressors.

"I loved you, I still do! What they would have done to me, to us!" Jowan tried setting up, Amell pressing down on him and her face warring with emotions.

"You could have told me! I thought we were fighting for freedom together! I thought you trusted me, Jowan!" Amell huffed and pinned him down, a whimper coming from her and making Jowan pause. Jowan slowly sat up, the rancid taste of his tongue growing stronger and his head pounding. He looked at Amell, reaching out and wiping away a stray tear with his thumb, before bringing her to into his chest.

"I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I just—I just wanted a normal life with you and I wasn’t strong enough, not by myself, to make it happen."

"Maker, you’re so stupid." Amell wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her face there, her fingers playing with the ends of his hair. "Well, we’re together now. The Arl agreed that if you lived, you were free."

"So—so I’m a warden now?"

"Till the day your Calling comes."

"And—and I can spend that time with you?"

"Like you have a choice, blighter." Amell grinned into his neck and he smiled himself, surprised that he not only felt her magic on the surface now, but her actual presence pressing at the back of his mind.

"That—this is my choice."


	18. From the Start (Romance)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Pairing** : F!Mahariel/Tamlen  
>  **Request** : F!Mahariel with Tamlen  
>  **Theme** : Growing Up

The moon hung high in the sky, illuminating the lake. Mahariel kicked her legs in the lake, watching the ripples distort the view of the sky.

Ashalle was a wonderful guardian, she took care of Mahariel with love. She gave the young _da’len_ everything she needed and encouraged her to try new things. Still she wasn’t family, in fact, Mahariel had no family left in the Sabrae clan. For some reason, what happened to her family and parents was unspoken thing and it frustrated her horribly.

She was almost an adult now, the goddess Andruil had come forth to watch over her and soon she would receive her vallaslin. She would be a huntress and an adult, she would old enough to finally know about her parents. At least, she would if Ashalle or Marethari saw it fit to tell her.

"Sneaking away into the night, _lethallan_? You will be tired tomorrow without sleep, you won’t even be able to hit the side of a Sylvan."  
Mahariel glared into the lake, at the reflection of her hunting partner Marethari assigned her. He had grown up with her, but she had never really liked or associated with him. He always seemed too arrogant and solitary to her.

"You are one to talk, _lethallin_. Sneaking after me. Also your tracking was extremely poor, a deaf nug could have heard you coming."

"I saw how you held your bow today, almost took off Merrill’s head with your wide shot."

"Didn’t you fall out of a tree earlier? Good thing you don’t have a pretty face to ruin."

"I know, would have been a shame if it had been you beautiful face."

"Yeah, well—what?" Mahariel paused, running the words through her head. Had he just?

"What’s the matter _lethallan_?" His voice full of amusement.

"Did you just call me beautiful! So I’m too delicate to be a hunter!?" Mahariel turned around, glaring up at the boy. He broke out laughing, the sound was actually nice and a blush rose on her face.

"I meant nothing by it, _lethallan_. You are nice to look at, but you’re also one of the more intelligent of our clan and resourceful. With a little practice, you might be a decent hunter. I’m actually glad you’re my partner, at least I know it won’t be a dull morning." A smug smile appeared on his face and Mahariel frowned with confusion.

"You—you are strange."

"Perhaps."


	19. Maker, Take Me Now (Romance)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Pairing** : Merrill/Carver  
>  **Request** : Some Merrill and Carver  
>  **Theme** : Pain

He jumped, the icy chill running down his back. The jerking motion pulling on the injured muscle and he grunted into his bed roll.

"Oh! I’m sorry, Carver." Merrill pulled away, the chilling magic evaporating from her hands and instead a soft heat surrounded them. She went back to kneading, heat this time, into the strained muscle in Carver’s lower back. "I’m not really a good healer, not like Anders anyways. If he was here he’d have you better in no time, or Hawke, if…"

"No! That blighter is the reason I’m hurt in the first place. Brightest mage in Kirkwall, my ass, he can’t even distinguish between the enemy and his own brother." Carver sighed, feeling better as Merrill soothed away the pain.

"I’m sure he didn’t mean it, I mean sometimes I get confused too. All you humans kind of start looking alike in big groups."

"Yeah… So, um, are you doing anything after this?" Carver swallowed hard, hoping that maybe this time he wouldn’t back out.

"I think Hawke and Isabela almost have the food ready… maybe not, Isabela did say something about taking a break in their tent."

"Uh, actually I meant after we get back to Kirkwall. I wanted to know if you wanted to go out somewhere?"

"Um…but aren’t we out now?" Merrill sat back and folded her hands in her lap, Carver was finally able to set up without pain. He coughed into his hand, sitting cross-legged in front of Merrill.

"Well, yeah, but I thought more along the lines of going out for a few drinks or dinner or something."

"That would be fun! Anders does seem like he needs a break and a few drinks, and Hawke wanted a rematch with Varric in cards."

"Maker, you make this so hard for me."

"Andraste’s perky tits, Kitten. Just help him with that _hardness_.”

"Oh, you’re were trying to ask me out!" Merrill giggled, before nodding. Carver managed a small smile and a flit of relief, only for it to be ruined by the eavesdroppers again.

"There you go, Kitten."

"But Isabela,they were doing so wonderful on their own! How else will they learn?"

"Hawke, even I found that painful and I’m usually okay with a little pain."

"Mm, you really are."

"…I hate you all." Carver sighed and buried his red face in his hands, listening to Isabela and Hawke snicker outside the tent.

Maker take him from his ass-of-a-brother, his brother’s pirate accomplice, and this wonderful elven woman who confounded him so easily.


	20. Till Death and Beyond (Romance)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Pairing** : F!Brosca/Leske  
>  **Request** : F!Brosca had a bit of a crush on Leske, but he had a crush on Rica. All this baring in mind when Brosca has to kill Leske. Something bittersweet.  
>  **Theme** : Too Late

She often wondered what had happened to Leske and her sister, while she was topside. Whether Rica had found her a noble, whether mother even realized both of her daughters were gone now, whether Leske had finally made a move on Rica with Brosca out of the way, and whether they were settled quite happily in a noble house and lived behind the doors of Orzammar politics.

It had taken time, but she had come to terms with her little fantasy. She would be happy if her sister was out of Dust Town. She never cared for her mother anyways and the woman had made it clear that the feeling was almost mutual. And then, if—if Leske and Rica had a hidden affair behind the noble’s back, then she could—she could accept it and be happy for them.

However, this—this she could not come to terms with! Having Leske following Jarvia, being at her every beck and call, sleeping in her bed, willing to betray Brosca for her! Brosca refused to let it stand, refused to allow Leske call her surface-addled!

It was flash of red anger, a moment in which she could only see Leske and feel the pain of betrayal. Yet now as she stood over him, the rest of the Carta dead around her and Jarvia among them, her blade hesitated and hovered.

"Brosca?" Leske coughed out, holding his ribs from his place on the floor.

"Why?!" Brosca bit her lip, she never cried. Crying was for babes and drunken cur like her mother.

"You really have—have forgotten, haven’t you? You do whatever—whatever to survive." Leske coughed again, glaring up at her.

"I know that! I remember!" Brosca slammed the hilt of her blade into Leske’s shoulder, the man let out a yell and Brosca felt a mixture of satisfaction and guilt rip through her.

This should have been easier, the hatred she felt at being betrayed by her only friend and the man she loved, should have already allowed her to bury her sword deep into this traitor. She thought about asking Zevran or Alistair or even Morrigan to do what she couldn’t, but in the end this was hers to deal with and she would hate herself if she refused to face this.

Brosca’s sword clattered to the ground and she fell to her knees, dropping her head onto her chest.

"Dammit Leske, I—I want to hate you! I want to kill you! I want—I’ve always just wanted you, your loyalty and charm. It’s not fair, you nug-humping bastard!" Brosca punched Leske in the face, his head snapping back and Brosca pressed her fists into her eyes to stop the tears from falling. "I could have swallowed it, had it been Rica!"

Leske’s laugh pissed her off and she screamed, no longer caring what her other companions thought of her.

"DAMN, BLIGHTER!" Brosca went to throw another punch, but Leske grabbed her fist and pulled her close.

"You’re a little late with your confession, nug-licker." Leske, the old, charming, friendly Leske grinned at her. She breathed in a shaky breath, feeling a stray tear slip out and Leske pulled her into his chest. He rested his chin on her head and rubbed her back, Brosca taking the time to memorize the smell of dirt and too much scented oil.

"I love you."

"Yeah, so I’ve heard… Brothers-in-arms till death?"

"Family and friends for life." Brosca buried her face into Leske’s shoulder and did the same with her knife into his back, before sobbing. More tears slipping out as she felt Leske’s life slowly drain and he slumped down against her.

For once, she wished that the Ancestors’ would hear her prayer and grant her friend peace in the Stone’s embrace.


	21. A Favor (Romance)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Pairing** : M!Hawke/Fenris  
>  **Request** : Story behind the red favor Fenris wears from Hawke (male, mage, sarcastic/charming, rivalry romance)  
>  **Theme** : Differences

Fenris huffed, slamming his quill down on the table. Turning to see Hawke paused and staring at him, the mage lying on the floor with his dog by his side.

"Look, I think he’s getting jealous! Quick, kiss me." Hawke laughed, his mabari pouncing around and giving Hawke a slobbery lick.

"This is childish and annoying, Hawke!" Fenris stood and glared down at the man on the floor, the mage reaching out and grabbing on the elves legging.

"Come my broody friend, sit by me."

"Listen Hawke, if this is to—if you are doing this because of what happened. I understand, I can leave."

"Aw, spoilsport." Hawke sat up and sighed, resting his chin on his fist as he stared up at Fenris. "You know, you’re no fun at all. I decide you need to take a break and all of a sudden its, ‘Maker, Hawke must hate me cause I refused to sleep with him again.’ I’m not shallow—a pain in the ass, always, but not shallow." Hawke patted the floor beside him and Fenris sighed, grabbing his book from the table and sat down. Hawke plucking the book from Fenris’ fingers and Fenris growled, Hawke smirking at the sound.

"I said break didn’t I? Come on, lets talk. Killed any good mages lately?"

"I’m about to."

"Ooh, do tell."

"Hawke! This is foolish!"

"Alright, alright… so, do you really think I’d hold walking out after a wonderful round of, well…, you know. Do you think I’d hold that against you?"

"I—I am not sure, we do not always see eye to eye Hawke."

"True, but that doesn’t mean I can’t care."

"But do you, Hawke? We are very different, I—find myself hating everything about you, everything I also... care for."

Hawke sighed and nodded, he reached around behind him grabbing the small blanket he had been laying his head on.

"Alright, story time. I’m not always as eloquent as Varric, so forgive me. So, this blanket I got from Mother, when I was very little. Apparently it was one of the few things she took from the Amell estate, when she eloped with Father. It’s kept me warm, hid me from the darkspawn under my bed, created a mildly defensible fort against a little Carver, and it has even been my knight’s cape when I was fighting the dragons that hid in my family’s barn. I’ve always had it and it’s always been there for me, a tie to my heritage, my family, and my dreams. I want you to have it." Hawke offered the piece of red cloth up to Fenris and Fenris looked at it with surprise.

"Hawke? I can’t."

"What if I told you it was magic resistant?" Hawke grinned and raised his eyebrow.

"No, I mean it is yours. I would not feel right taking something so important from you."

"Hmm." Hawke looked down at the blanket, before grinning. Fenris had no time to question the look, before a ripping sound filled the air and Hawke held a small strip from the blanket out to Fenris. "This way, I keep my blanket and you have a tie to it and to me. A favor and a promise that I will never hate you, no matter how mad you make me sometimes."

Fenris shyly reached out and clutched the torn piece.

"Thank you, for this." Fenris loosely tied the cloth around his wrist with one hand, looking at it and tugging the end to tighten it. Hawke chuckled as he reached over and helped tie the cloth tighter, the mage’s hands lingering on Fenris’ hand for moment.

"Wouldn’t want it to fall off." Hawke laughed again, before clearing his throat and putting on a dramatically stern look. "Okay, then… sappy moment is over, let’s get back to the books before I’m forced by the powers of romance to ravish you."

"Hawke."


	22. 186 Ancient (Romance)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Pairing** : Maferath/Andraste  
>  **Request** : Something about Maferath/Andraste a little bit before the betrayal  
>  **Theme** : Support

Maferath smiled as his sons sparred in the field before him. Laughing as the youngest knocked the eldest onto his back, the children finding joy in it as well. Soon the younger children would be able to go out hunting with their older siblings.

Maferath found a peace here among his family, something that did not stretch outside these woods. Outside this forest and field, his people were dying. Intruders from the North impeded upon his people’s borders.

At night his wife would cry out for their people, he found himself all the more in love with her for her care and compassion. It was what made her a wonderful wife and doting mother.

"How are the children, dear husband?"

Maferath smile widened as Andraste sat beside him, tucking herself into his side.

"They are enjoying themselves, soon the little ones will be able to take on more responsibilities."

"That’s delightful—the eldest will be wielding his weapon in war soon. I do not wish for it to come to that Maferath. I wish our people peace."

"Peace will not come without sacrifice, my love." Maferath reached up and tucked a piece of Andraste’s hair out of her face, she closed her distressed eyes and leaned into his touch. 

Her warring face reminding him of the tears she shed at night for her people, held in his embrace as he captured her precious tears within a crystal vial. It was the only calm he could bring her and he refused to let such passionate tears be wasted in the dirt, tainted with the blood of fallen comrades and vicious enemies.

Maferath reached into his fur, touching the vial of tears hanging around his neck and feeling the serenity wash over him and his thoughts once more.

"But, my love. For you I will do anything, I will pluck out the hearts of each of our enemies, if it should come to that. I promise, I will not let you or our children suffer at their hands."

"Thank you, my husband… He has spoke to me again, the Maker."

"My love…"

"He shows me what can be done, how will we win. Will you stand by me, should I stand with his banner?" Andraste opened her eyes and rested her hand on Maferath’s cheek, it was Maferath’s turn to lean into her touch and he looked at her with love. He worried what these visions would bring her, but he would not let her rise and should it come, fall, alone.

"I shall."


	23. This Moment of Mine (Romance)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Pairing** : F!Aeducan/Gorim  
>  **Request** : Lady Aeducan and Gorim with the whole secret, forbbidden love affair thing  
>  **Theme** : Proposal

It was always a small exchange of double-edged words and soft, secret kisses. She was unsure of what would become of Gorim otherwise, for in truth no action could be taken upon him in the public’s eye. There were no rules broken, in fact the rules encouraged unions that produce able-bodied dwarflets.

It was more of a backroom standard, that a noble woman would not dare risk lowering herself to a Warrior’s caste. The fact she was Lady Aeducan, daughter of King Endrin Aeducan meant this standard was the utmost importance to her, except it wasn’t. In public, among the other dwarves the Assembly would have to grin and bear it, Father would have to accept it by law, even her brothers would have no say. Behind doors though, the Assembly would be distraught, they would find some way to her downfall. Father—he may accept it, but he would be forced to remain neutral and Trian and Bhelen would run Gorim through without even blinking.

"My lady? Are you ready?"

Lady Aeducan smiled, pushing her thoughts away. She carefully pulled her hood up and opened the door of her room, seeing Gorim waiting and dressed in his finest armor.

"Always ready, good ser." She curtsied playing up her part, her smile becoming devious.

"Ancestors, help us if this doesn’t work."

"Have faith, Gorim." Lady Aeducan took the lead, exiting the hall and the palace all together.

Outside the Diamond Quarter, the market were alive. Yet no one stopped and offered the Lady Aeducan a pause, bow, or word. Satisfied, she wrapped herself around Gorim’s arm, rested her head on her shoulder, and let him lead her among the stalls.

"You keep looking over your shoulder, Gorim."

"Yes, well. I expect your brothers are just waiting to finish me off." Gorim smiled at her nevertheless and she laughed.

"No one has recognized me yet. Besides my brothers may be nug-licking bastards, but they are not so dishonorable to fight you with your back turned."

"Maybe not, my lady. But they’d as soon stab me in the back."

"…true." Lady Aeducan sighed, wishing nothing more to have this moment as Lady Aeducan than a faceless dwarf. To declare this moment and this man belonged to her.

A sharp metal on a stall table caught her eye and she smiled wickedly, she let go of Gorim and approached the bench. “That is a lovely vambrace, good ser.”

"A fine eye you have. It is made of the finest leather from House Tethras and trimmed in the best gold by House Branka." The merchant lifted the vambrace up for her to see better, the glint of the metal against the smooth fabric brought a smile to her face.

"It has no pair?"

"I am afraid not, it is a vambrace made for a groom."

"Delightful, how much?" Lady Aeducan reached for her pouch, Gorim’s hand on hers stopping her.

"My lady, surely you don’t mean to…"

"And if I do? Think of it as a promise and a claim to what is mine." Lady Aeducan smirked and Gorim looked away, coughing into his fist to hide his embarrassed smile.

"Do what you will then, the coin is yours—and so am I."


	24. The Sea's Wicked Embrace (Romance)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Pairing** : Isabela/Edward Kenway  
>  **Request** : Crossover ship (note: AC4/DA is one of **few** crossovers I will actually accept)  
>  **Theme** : Trouble

She smirked, twirling the blade in her hand and watching the rugged blonde shuffle through the chest. One of her legs propped up on the crate, while the other swung back and forth.

"Looking for something sweetness?" Isabela snickered as the man lifted up too fast and slammed his head on the bottom of the table.

"Well, shit lass. You ain’t supposed to go sneaking up on a man like that." The man stood to full height, Isabela taking in his rough appearance that was just made for the sea.

"Ain’t so hard when all you sea men are just so—tense." Isabela hopped off the crate, still twirling her dagger. "So I’ll ask again, sweet thing. What’d you be looking for?"

"Right now? Nothing more than good time." Edward grinned, his hands slipping under his jacket.

Isabela smirked, swooping down as his blade swung over her head and she rolled backwards away from his second one, pulling her second dagger. With quick feet she ran forwards and met his blades head on her smaller daggers allowing her to slip under his swords and parry them back, getting her in close. The shine of a hidden blade in his sleeve making her roll away again, as he swiped at where she had been.

"So full of surprises, but I have a few myself." Isabela pulled a dark vial from inside her tunic, dropping it to the floor and crushing it under her heel. Dark smoke flooding out and filling the room. The other pirate lunged forward and hoping to catch her before she disappeared in the smoke, he failed falling short by a few scant inches.

Isabela moved through the smoke, the low visibility barely affecting her. She found her place pressed against the man’s back, her daggers nocked in a ‘x’ across his neck. The man tensed as he felt cold steel again his warm flesh, the smoke dissipating and making his defeat visible. He dropped his swords in surrender, Isabela sheathing one of her blades to grab his arm and unlatch his bladed gauntlet as well. The wrist blade dropping the floor with the swords, his pistols following.

"Let’s try this again, sweetness. Captain Isabela, Queen of the Eastern Sea and you?"

"Edward, Captain Edward Kenway of the Jackdaw." The man managed a charming smile, despite his current position.

"Pleasure to make your acquaintance, Kenway." Isabela slowly moved, walking around Edward. The tip of her other blade still trained on him. "Now about that booty you’ve been looking for?"

"A treasure of the ages, nothing more and nothing less. A tribal statuette worth its weight in gold."

"I see, well I’m afraid you were just a little too late this time." Isabela plucked the ivory idol out of the sack around her waist, showing it off to the man and smirking at the glare he gave her. She put the idol back into the bag, leaning forward and her dagger falling from its place. "Perhaps another time, Edward."

Isabela laughed as the man lurched forward, stopping as the cuffs latching him to the table pulled taut. Isabela leaned in further and placed a quick, passionate kiss on his lips, savoring the lingering taste of rum and the brief fight for dominance. Eventually she pulled away, satisfied as the winner of it all.

"You’re as cruel and slick as the sea, I’ll give you that." Edward gave her a spiteful grin, pulling against the restraints.

"Thank you, sweetness. I do try." Isabela gave him a dramatic bow, before sauntering over to ladder to the upper deck and scurrying up it. "I look forward to meeting you again."


	25. The Voice of the Trees (Friendship)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Pairing** : Morrigan/F!Mahariel  
>  **Request** : a Friendship/BrOTP fic  
>  **Theme** : Wild

There was one particular thing all Dalish agreed on always, _Shemlen_ were ignorant beings. Mahariel was not expecting them to be so easily frightened too, a few wolves and they scrambled like helpless stags. Honestly, she was the only elf and woman in the group with three men and she was probably the only one who didn’t scream like a child at the sound of a murder of crows talking in the distance.

"Maker, I hate the Wilds. I keep expecting to see a Witch around the corner."

"So what, _shem_? Either the Witch is not a threat and we are safe or she is a threat and we kill her, I do not understand.” Mahariel sighed, picking at the lock on the ancient, Chasind chest. She hoped the rust hadn’t welded it shut.

"What part of I don’t want to be turned into a rat do you not understand?" Daveth folded his arms, curling in on himself and his eyes cut around the clearing.

"Daveth is right, there is no need to run blindly into trouble." Alistair peered over her shoulder and she glared up at him, he quickly backed off.

"You expect trouble, simply because you do not understand the woods. It is the same reason you _shem_ rarely travel at night and cage your mages, you fear the unknown.” Mahariel finally opened the chest, pulling an enchanted necklace and _shemlen_ armor. She handed the armor over to Alistair, lacing the necklace around her neck with the many others she was collecting.

"You don’t?" Jory looked as jumpy as Daveth, but at least he wasn’t constantly looking over his back.

"I do and yet I don’t. I don’t fear _shem_ things, but I admit I have no taste for them, even though I’ve not always given…” Mahariel’s eyes narrowed, her vision was superior to the _shem_ and she could just make out a wolf slinking along the shadows of the marsh. It was too black to be natural, something she had seen before… something learned among the Dalish Keepers.

"Come, we need to retrieve the documents, now."

"What, no more time for looting and insulting humans?" Jory’s tone made her snarl, satisfaction seeping in as he flinched.

The four of them made their way to the tower in strained silence. Mahariel actually finding amusement, seeing the document missing after being protected by famed, _shem_ magic.

"Are you a vulture, I wonder?" A woman looking as wild as the marshes stepped from the ruins, her appearance reminding Mahariel of her clan… and a certain black shadow.

"No, but you are a wolf."

"That is but one of my many forms, yes. I’ve been watching you for sometime, I had not been aware I was being watched as well. You are a curious thing, coming here to disturb ashes that have long been buried and recognizing me for what I was. Who are you and why have you come."

"Don’t answer her, she seems Chasind. The others will be nearby." Alistair reached for Mahariel and she stepped forward, showing no fear to the other woman.

"Oh, do you fear barbarians, fear they shall swoop down upon you."

"They fear many things it seems and many things are barbaric to them, despite how they themselves choose to live." Mahariel smirked, finding the company of someone with similar distastes refreshing.

"Don’t, she’s a Witch of the Wilds she is! She’ll turn us into toads!"

"Witch of the Wilds, such fancies those legends. Have you no minds of you own? You there. Women do not frighten like little boys, tell me your name and I shall tell you mine."

"Lyna Mahariel, it is a pleasure to meet someone of gall and intelligence among the _shemlen_ riffraff.”

"That it is indeed, you may call me Morrigan. You seek what was in the chest, am I right? I find myself not opposed to helping you retrieve it. Come, my mother has what you seek and perhaps you can give me more insight in how someone of your intellect came to be surrounded by these mindless fools."

“ _Ma serannas_ , and it would be my honor, _Falon_.”

Well, not all _Shemlen_ were idiots.


	26. Lessons Learned (NSFW)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pairing: F!Cadash Inquisitor/Iron Bull  
> Request: Lady Cadash/Iron bull finding out she's insecure and having slow sex that's all about her  
> Theme: Perfect  
> Content: Sexual Situation, Size Kink

She knew he was giving her a look, one that questioned everything she was currently doing. The Inquisitor didn’t fidget, the Inquisitor didn’t mumble, or refuse to stare down an opponent. The Inquisitor for sure didn’t squeak when her dashing lover got close. Outside these walls, outside of the Keep she was a different person. Out there she feigned a confidence and leadership she was positive she really didn’t actually possess, even the Cadash namesake meant little after their thaig had burned.

"Come on what’s wrong? Whose arse am I kicking now?" Iron Bull grinned and flopped down on the bed, falling on his back beside her. The bed frame creaked with the added weight and Cadash looked away again with a small smile.

"I can handle my own arse kicking, thank you." Cadash turned herself so she was facing Iron Bull, a teasing smile forced on her face. Only to become genuine as Iron Bull belted out a laugh.

"Of that I am certain." His one bright eye settled on her, watching her and she found herself once again pulled into her nervous habits.

She let out a sudden squeal as Iron Bull hefted her up easily, settling her above him. Her hands settled on his bare chest as not to tip off and her hips spread wide in order to set on him properly. The mischievous twinkle in his eye causing her own eyes to widen.

"Wha—what."

"So, want to tell me what is wrong?" Iron Bull reached up, twirling a single lock of her hair and brushing his significantly larger fingers against her cheek. She leaned into the touch, taking in how much larger he really was. His hand still rested on her hip was big enough to keep her anchored and the hand close to her face was larger enough to cover her whole face. She was just so tiny and insignificant.

"Why a dwarf, why me?" She bit at her lower lip, watching surprise replace Iron Bull’s smile. 

"Why not? Is there something wrong with wanting you?"

"No, it’s just. I’m so small, I don’t have any fancy titles like Vivienne or Cassandra, I can’t be very attractive to a Qunari, and I’m not incredibly good at anything. If not for Cassandra, I don’t even think I could fake being a decent Inquisitor."

Iron Bull’s smile returned and he let out a low chuckle.

"I always was a piss poor Qunari, didn’t give a shit about titles or place or roles. If you ask me your damn near perfect."

"But—but, I don’t…"

She paused as Iron Bull sat up, his palm cupping the side of her face.

"Damn. Near. Perfect." He leaned in the rest of the way, his stubble brushing against her skin and his scarred lips fitting against hers carefully. Iron Bull pulled away a bit, his eye drifting over her face and his grin twisted into a smirk.

Still uncertainty and doubt settled deep in Cadash’s stomach, although a small heat was settling in beside it. She opened her mouth to question him again, but let out another squeak as he leaned in and took advantage of her open mouth. Both his hands came up and cradled her head, his one eye sliding shut as his rough lips slid across her soft ones. The kiss being more passionate than the soft, simple one before it. The taste of whiskey and bay leaf overwhelmed her, her mind briefly registering his hand drifting down her back. Finally he pulled away with his smirk still in place, while she struggled to remember what it was she had wanted to say. Her gaze listlessly staring at the broad chest before her, while her hands unconsciously traced his scars.

"I was never good at learning by mouth either, hands-on experience usually got the lesson across better."

"O—okay." She looked up and saw that spark in his eye again, her blood rushed in her ears and she jumped a bit as she felt his fingers slid underneath her tunic and up her back. A stroke of heat following his touch and encompassing her entirely. She lifted her hands up allowing her tunic to be pulled off and tossed to the side, shivering as his hands smoothed down her arms and onto her shoulders. His thumbs rubbed along her collarbone and dipped into her breast band, a small gasp coming from her at his careful, calloused touch.

He redirected his attention, running his hands down her sides and to the waist of her breeches, slipping the buttons there through with just a flick of his thumb, a hum that almost sounds like a pleased growl coming from his chest and making her quiver again.

This time he warned her, one of his hands sneaking behind and squeezing before he lifted her up in the air with ease. Still she flailed for a moment, her hands grabbing onto his horns to steady herself and this time a growl did come from him. The dark rumble burned her to the core and she let out a gasp. Her pants and small clothes came off quickly and the world flipped.

Iron Bull hovered above her, the look in his eye and grin on his face practically predatory. However, he leaned away and Cadash let out a whine, pouting as the room’s cold ate at her.

He merely smirked, pulling at his belt and throwing it off into the room as it comes off. His fauld and trousers following suit, leaving him in only his small clothes.

Cadash swallowed hard, seeing that the jokes Varric had made about Qunari and compensation had been just that.

"Liking the view Inquisitor?"

"Ancestors below, yes."

Another chuckle and he crawled back onto the bed, catching her lips again as he hoisted himself above her. Her breast band being snapped off and the torn cloth being thrown to the side, an agitated noise coming from her. The two of them parted again and he pulled her hips up against his, a slick friction between his clothed bulge and her bare body. A gasp worked its way from her throat and her hands wrapped around his horns again, grounding her in place and perhaps him as well. She saw the change this time, the pull on his horns darkening his eye and gracing her with another growl. This one lower, deeper, as if there was a thin line separating this Qunari from a being a feral beast.

She had her own smirk as she tugged at his horns again, only to lose it as he bucked down into her hard. A loud growl accompanying her moan and he pulled away again dropping her to the bed, tugging off his loincloth with impatience.

She swallowed hard again, panting and wet with need. He fitted his large body over hers, one of his arms propped his weight off of her and his other laid upon her cheek. Carefully he pushed forwards, aware of how tiny she really was to him. She was so small, but he was showing her that he loved her, adored her, wanted to share this with her as she was. It was a relief to them both as he began to slide in and Cadash squirmed beneath him, so desperately needing him and yet not getting enough. He grinned down at her, his hand on her cheek drifting down and pinning her hips down. She understood as much as he needed it himself, he was not going to hurt her and he was not going to take her like some wild animal, not this time. Slowly he sheathed himself in her tender heat, a whimper coming from her and a groan escaping him. She closed her eyes reveling in the almost too tight friction, and she shook when he carefully rested his forehead against hers. With shallow strokes he worked them closer to bliss, each stroke in time with his breath. She had the urge to memorize each breath and each thrust, had she had the ability to. 

Slowly he built them up, the two of them sharing hot breaths and submersed in the feel of his searing, slick, war-ridden skin against her overheated, slick, war-torn skin. It was never enough and always too much. Soon she could feel the sharp edge approaching, every thrust pulling a moan or keen from her.

“Please, faster, more. Ancestors please.” She reached up and grasped his horns again, the low growl trembling through him and straight into her. Her fingers massaged at the base of his horns, each growl sounding louder and curling more heat deep within her. His pace increased as well, though he kept a careful control over his power. Each thrust restrained and overwhelming. The names of her ancestors spilled from her lips and praise of her beauty, power, and wit fell from his.

He took her higher and higher, bring that coil within her tighter and tighter until she finally tipped in to shear pleasure.

Her scream echoed through her room, his growl following loud and constant. She soared into a black haze, lights like those of the breach bursting within the dark. She could barely feel her entirety quake and his hand holding her still as not to her hurt, warmth swam through her and everything was wound taunt until the end. The haze disappeared as she opened her eyes, the world around her bleary as she came back to herself. The thin sheen of sweat cooling her as the cold of the room rushed back in, she felt relaxed and content. Nothing at the moment made her feel nervous or caused her to second guess.

She heard a grunt and let out a whine as her lover moved away from her, flopping down beside her. She turned her head to the side, her vision swimming again. When sight returned to her she found Iron Bull staring at her with a reverence meant for an elven goddess, a tired grin on his face.

"Feel better?"

"Yeah… not quite sure I learned my lesson though. I think there was something about being a Qunari or was it being in a Qunari?"

Iron Bull let out booming laugh and Cadash smiled, a content sigh coming from her as Iron Bull pulled her closer and she curled into his side. Whether she really was damn near perfect or not, this moment was completely perfect.


	27. The Perfect Shade (Romance)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pairing: F!Inquisitor/Cullen  
> Request: A romance/romantic comedy with the inquisitor and Cullen. Confident/cheeky inquisitor with fumbling/nervous Cullen = Mega Squeeing.  
> Theme: Bath

"This cheese tastes strange."

"Ah, must be the misery."

Cullen blinked and looked over at the Inquisitor, the Inquisitor lounging sideways within the chair near the fire. Her foot kicked in the air as she looked at him, grinning.

"Or was the cheese, despair flavored… I wonder if despair and misery even tastes the same?"

"In—Inquisitor?!" Cullen let out an incredibly manly squeak, truly the very essence of his manhood, as he tighten his hold he had on the towel covering his lower body. Maker, this woman was going to kill him. "When did you back! How—how did you get in my—"

"Just got back, the lock wasn’t too much trouble really. I was hoping for an update?" The Inquisitor’s grin persisted as she made herself more comfortable in the chair, tucking her arms under her head.

"I—I haven’t really, I mean— You only left a little while ago, I was bathing and I haven’t had the time to take a look at the reports." Cullen pulled at his towel again, the breeze of the room making him conscious of how little he was wearing.

The Inquisitor hummed, looking towards the ceiling.

"So, how was the bath?"

"I—I— what?"

" Maker, I bet it was delightful! I could use a nice, hot, relaxing bath. I’ve got sand in places, I didn’t think sand could get into."

"Inqu—quistor!" Cullen felt the flush rising up his neck, his eye unintentionally running along the length of the Inquisitor’s body and wandering to a place that Maker would strike him down for. "Per—perhaps you should go bathe then?"

The Inquisitor hummed again and her eyes flicked over to him, an amused light in her eye, probably from the red steadily spreading over his body.

"And miss out on seeing such a beautiful, taunt body. Trained thoroughly through Templar training and dripping from a fresh bath? Perish the thought."

Cullen let out another surprised sound, wringing his hands and stifling the urge to retreat from the room and the Inquisitor’s salacious gaze.

"But I suppose I should, I’d hate to burdened the servants further by tracking sand everywhere. Besides I’ve already memorized the lovely shade of red you turn when pressed." The Inquisitor swung her legs to the front of the chair and stood, however instead of leaving she walked closer.

Cullen slightly trembled as the Inquisitor stood almost face to face with him, forcing himself to swallow hard and breath. Her eyes still dancing with mirth as she smirked.

"I look forward to hearing the report, Cullen. Maybe over a dinner of despair cheese, Autumn wine, and melancholy bread."

"Ye—yes, ma’am."


	28. I'll Make a Wager (NSFW)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pairing: F!Trevelyan Inquisitor/Iron Bull  
> Request: NSFW Iron Bull and human inquisitor where he's basically making fun of her for being so short/small the whole time?  
> Theme: Break  
> Content: Sexual Situation, Size Kink, Wall sex, Door sex?

"Put me down!"

"Where is the fun in that?"

Trevelyan huffed, going limp in Iron Bull’s grasp. She wasn’t entirely upset at the turn of things, having been thrown over the Qunari’s shoulder did give her a damn fine view of his ass.

That’s not to say she wasn’t upset, being randomly thrown over your lover’s shoulder during a conversation with your other companions did not do well for the chain of command nor her overall appearance of regality.

"I swear to the Maker!"

"Would he even hear you from all the way down there?" Iron Bull chuckled and dropped his down from her back, squeezing her own ass and making her gasp.

"You—you—dammit!" Damn the Qunari and his utterly annoying ability to turn her on. With vengeance in mind and smirk on her face the Inquisitor reached down to return the favor.

"Feisty little shrimp aren’t you?" Iron Bull’s laughter boomed through halls, the Inquisitor’s smirk slipping away with annoyance.

"I’m not short! You’re just too damn tall!"

"If you say so." Iron Bull turned around the last corner, slipping into the Inquisitor’s room. He set her down with a surprising carefulness, smirking down at her.

"Smug bastard. I’ll have you know I’m tall for my kind!" Trevelyan crossed her arms, looking up at her annoying lover.

"I see, so how about a kiss then?" Iron Bull tapped his lips, his eye full of smug satisfaction at the fact she was too short for a proper kiss. Trevelyan just glared at Iron Bull, the Qunari finally giving in and pulling her up against him. She was forced onto the tips of her toes and she balanced herself by holding onto his shoulders, still forcing Iron Bull to lean down an inch or two.

Iron Bull stared down at her for a moment longer, a smirk on his face. A mixture of pine and sword polish surrounded her and she huffed again.

"Get that look off your face."

"Why don’t you?" Iron Bull’s smirk grew wider and Trevelyan took the challenge leaning up and sealing their lips, her smooth lips pressing against his scarred ones and he leaned further down deepening it. A rush of warmth and challenge made its way through the Inquisitor and she wrapped her arms around Iron Bull’s neck, her hand resting and massaging at the place where skin met horn. A deep growl came from within her lover and causing her to smirk into the kiss.

Once more her moment of victory was taken from her, a sharp gasp escaping her as Iron Bull wrapped his arms around her and lifted her up. Her feet no longer near the floor and her smaller body squirming against his.

"That was not nice, pipsqueak." Iron Bull grinned, moving her around so his hands were holding her thighs. Her legs forced up around him. "Not nice at all."

"Yeah, what are you going to do about it?" She stared at him in defiance, but enjoyed a bit of pride as she thumbed the spot between his horns again and he let out a low rumble.

Iron Bull’s grin turned wicked, shifting her so he held her up with one hand. His other hand going to her clothes, her jacket being easily thrown of her shoulders. Not to be outdone, she moved into action too. Her nimble fingers dropping down and pulling his belt loose, the large length of fabric tossed behind her.

Next her chest plate was snapped off, the belt sliding undone as he pulled it and threw it away with a clatter. The dark, desiring look in his eyes spurring her to twist the laces of his trousers open with a grin. He leaned in for another deep kiss, this time plundering further and spreading the taste of Bay leaf and mead across her tongue.

Quickly she pulled the laces out, her hand sliding into the tight leather and her slim fingers running along his length. Iron Bull jerked away from the kiss, his head slamming against the door and he let out a thundering groan. The hand holding her from underneath hiking her up further. She dipped her fingers lower and buried her grin into his neck, tracing along the hard, heated skin. A tremble coming from her as she re-explored the body against her.

"Sh—shit, pipsqueak. I-I’m…"

"So horny?" She snickered into his shoulder, feeling his chuckle before she heard it. Her touch retreating as he sat her back down on her feet, her hands going straight for the clasps of her shirt.

"I was going to say that I’m going to break you in half, but sure let’s go with that." Iron Bull grinned, pushing his pants down and stepping out of them. His eye focused on watching her slip off the shirt and shift out of her trousers and small clothes, the golden gaze burning a trail along her tinier form.

Her own eyes focused on his heavy cock, begging for her touch. She licked her lips, reaching for the hard cock. A soft purr coming from her as she brushed her fingers over it, pulling gravelly groan from him and his head slammed against the wall.

"I didn’t break last time and I certainly don’t hear you complaining this time." Trevelyan’s hand ran upwards, dipping along Iron Bull’s muscles and eventually resting on his chest, his hand coming up and engulfing her own.

"Cause you also surprise me, pipsqueak." Iron Bull’s hand came back underneath her, pulling her against him and helping her settle around his hips.

She buried her head in his neck again, sighing as she bucked against him. His body rocking with hers as he teased the tip of his dick into her warm heat.

A gasp came from her and Iron Bull turned, pressing her into the door and sliding a slight deeper inside.

"I wonder what I’d break first, you or the door?"

"Fuck y—" Trevelyan moaned and fumbled to hold tighter, her body quivering as Iron Bull started a slow shallow pace. Giving up she wrapped her hands around his horns, trembling as Iron Bull shook and twitched as a growl worked out of his throat. His thrusts reached deeper and deeper with every stroke. He gently laid his forehead against hers, his eye sliding shut and he let out a strained chuckle.

"Always so tight, pipsqueak, d—damn!"

Iron Bull found a quicker pace, thrusting in as far as he could and tightening the coil inside her. Trevelyan squirmed against him, rolling her hips into him. The slick, warm friction made her keen and she jerked against him. Her entire being was a quaking as Iron Bull pushed her closer and closer to her climax. The tendril of pleasure within in her pulling tight before breaking away and pushing her into ecstasy.

"M—MAKER!" She could barely make out Iron Bull before her, her focus blurred as she tasted pure pleasure. Her entirety shook and she felt Iron Bull pin her down, a crack barely registering in the back of her euphoric-buzzed mind.

Slowly she came down, Iron Bull smirking at her as he leaned in and kissed her.

"Alright pipsqueak, you win." Iron Bull pulled out and away, her thighs wet and becoming cold as air rushed in. "Your not easy to break."

Iron Bull unwrapped her legs from around him completely, carefully setting her down on wobbly legs.

"T—Told you." Her voice rough from pleasure and overuse. She smirked, leaning back and steadying herself against the door. Iron Bull’s smirk turned into a grin and a loud creak registered, followed by a cracking sound.

Trevelyan fell backwards into the hall, the door slamming to the ground underneath her.

"Your door is however." Iron Bull snorted, crossing his arms and staring down at her. "So—how is the view from there, I hear it makes everything look bigger. Though for you, I’m sure there is not much difference."

"BASTARD!" She glared up at the incredibly sexy, very nude, very large bastard in front of her.

"Um… In—Inquisitor?"

Trevelyan froze, looking over to see Cassandra politely adverting her gaze. She heard someone clear their throat and notice Varric and Vivienne standing behind Cassandra as well, the former staring amused and the latter covering her eyes.

"For the love of the Maker! IRON BULL!"

“ _Hehe_ , sorry, pipsqueak.”


	29. Whispered Circle Quips (Romance)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pairing: F!Adaar/Cullen  
> Request: Female Adaar mage and Cullen just being fluffy together? Maybe making some of those age-old mage/templar sex jokes?  
> Theme: Duel

She chuckled watching another soldier being thrown by the might of the human Enchanter, she had such a wallop for such a small mage. Then again all mages seemed too.

"Inquisitor, I figured I would find you here."

She tilted her head, seeing Cullen walking towards her a smile on his face.

"Kadan, was there any particular reason for looking for me." She smiled back, finding his puzzled look every time she used the endearment and refused to explain the meaning quite amusing and adorable.

"I merely wanted to inform you the new recruits arrived." He leaned on the fence beside where she sat, the added height of the fence causing her to almost dwarf him in size.

"Good, you will make a good teacher." She slide off the fence, leaning beside him and going back to watch the Circle mage train the soldiers on counterattacks against magic.

"Maybe… I’m not sure what to do about all the rumors and shenanigans that will be floating among them." Cullen sighed, massaging his forehead and his smile became weary. "Maker, I remember the things from my first company.

"Oh, do tell Kadan." She chuckled again, turning her eyes back to him and finding a blush crawling across his face.

"I—I’m not certain."

"There was a very old mage in my clan, she used to tell us horrible kinds of stories and quips. For example, how does an apostate make a Templar cry?"

"I don’t believe I’ve heard this one." Cullen looked over at her and her smile grew sly.

"By showing the Templar, they are wielding a bigger _sword_.”

"Hmm, how about— What is the difference between a mage and a harlot?"

"What?"

"A harlot has better hats."

"Ah, but a mage has nicer shoes."

"Suppose it depends on the price of the harlot."

"True… How do you get a Templar out of their pants?"

"Oh?"

"You burn them away."

"Maker that was terrible. How do you know a mage is an aprosititute?"

"Was that a joke in itself?"

"No… but it should be."

"How?"

"She’s got lyrium dripping from her lips."

"Where do you Templars come up with these? Alright, one Magister walks up to another and asks, "Do you know what’s hot?"

"Andraste on a pyre. That one has gotten a recruit kicked out as soon he said Magister."

"Templars can be so picky."

"I suppose… Having sex with me is like a cleanse area. There is no magic, I take too much stamina, and I only last for a second."

"…" Adaar looked over at Cullen and he raised an eyebrow. Suddenly the both of them broke out laughing. "That, that was fantastic."

"There is a good one every now and then, I cringe to think what the new recruits will have waiting though." Cullen sighed again, looking to see a soldier flung not far from where they stood. He cringed, watching another thrown backwards over the fence with a stone fist to the face. "I suppose the first thing I’ll have to teach is a respect for the mages of the Inquisition."

"If anyone can do it, Kadan. It is you." Adaar leaned over pressing a kiss to Cullen’s cheek and pushed off the fence they were leaning on, a bright spell consuming her hands as she walked towards the combat ring. "Enchanter, you may take a break now. I believe I can handle the rest of them."

"Thank you, Inquisitor."

"De—dear Maker, I quit."

"Me too."

"Uh—um—I’ll go…"

"Brave and foolish, magnificent."

"Wh—what do you—"

Cullen flinched as the brave soldier was tossed like a rag doll across the field, Maker he loved that woman.


	30. The Qunari Mage and The Wide Eyed Templar (Romance)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pairing: F!Adaar/Cullen  
> Request: F!Saarebas Inquisitor being all stoic and Qunari-like, and trying to tell her feelings to a fumbling and embarrassed Cullen who is crushing on her?  
> Theme: A Compliment

Adaar found herself entranced by the Templar Captain, far too much of her time spent watching him throughout the day. Currently he was working through his daily training, wielding the sword as only a true warrior could.

She had truly wished to see his prowess upon the battlefield, seeking his company during her great journey across Thedas and yet he always persisted that his place was here at the Keep. Training soldiers and organizing troops.

He took another swipe at the training dummy, his muscles pulling taunt as he cleaved it in half. Sweat dampened his tunic, making it stick to him like a second skin. It was so rare she saw him without armor and she found herself enjoying it. He was smaller without it, but not exceedingly so. He rolled his shoulders, his muscles visually twitching and rolling as her took a breather.

With resolve she stood from her seat against the wall, walking to where Cullen was bent over and trying to regain his breath.

"You have a nice… form."

"Ah, In—Inquisitor, I hadn’t seen you there." Cullen looked up at her with wide eyes, the same wide eyes he always had when she appeared. Was it truly so hard to notice a Qunari walking towards you, especially when she didn’t possess a single roguish quality?

"I was watching, you swing your sword well. It’s enchanting to watch, almost as if your sword was an extension of yourself. The Qunari have a name for someone like that, though it is lost on me and most Vashoth." She nodded, offering Cullen a hand and he hesitated before accepting it. Adaar pulled him upright, enjoying the warmth of his hand in hers and she lingered for a moment before pulling away.

Cullen stood there, his eyes darting to the side and the broken dummy. He sheathed his sword in the belt around his waist and wiped his hands on his pants, repeating the action as he shifted from one foot the other and back again.

"I—thank you. My Templar training has served me well so far."

"It has, you are an honorable, handsome man."

"Th—thank you." Cullen coughed into his hand and glanced up at her, the red on his cheeks from his workout deepening.

"But of course, you need not express thanks for merely being who you are. Your strength is admirable and only heightened by you tactical intelligence and fair looks, they are qualities that can invoke very personable feelings." She nodded again, watching him. His eyes going wide and he seemed to quiver beneath her gaze.

"Ah—ye—yes. I—I am hon—honored you feel that—that, uh, way. I should be returning to my du—duties. In—Inquisitor.” Cullen bowed his head and grabbed his shield from the ground, scrambling past the Inquisitor as if he were being chased by a wolf. Adaar watched him trip and stumble as he entered the keep, mumbling to himself the entire time. A small quirk coming to her lips as she went to prepare for the next trip.

“A Templar who trembles and buckles before a mage, that is quite a sight. And one I look forward to seeing more of.”


	31. No Rest for the Wicked (Romance)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pairing: M!Inquisitor/Iron Bull  
> Request: IB and male Inquisitor, pretty please?  
> Theme: A Nap

"The world will survive for one more day by itself." Iron Bull thumped the Inquisitor on his back, the smaller man stumbled forward and barely caught himself from hitting the floor.

"Have you seen Thedas? It feels like a Tuesday every day now." The Inquisitor sighed, stretching and popping the kinks in his back as he walked alongside Iron Bull. He had been bent over maps and missives in the War Room almost all day, before Iron Bull had pulled him away from it, almost quite literally.

The moon and several low burning torches lit the hall as the men walked through it, their shadows jumping from wall to wall. The Inquisitor found the dead of night in the Keep relaxing, far more mellow than the rush of soldiers and servants during the day.

"You are right though, I could use a break. Thank you."

"Yeah, someone had to pull you away from your work, mine as well be me." Iron Bull chuckled, wrapping his arm around the Inquisitor and pulled him into his side. The Inquisitor let out a surprised sound before sighing again, relaxing into Iron Bull.

"Iron Bull, the softest cuddler in all of Thedas." The Inquisitor snickered, glancing at Iron Bull. The Qunari grinned wide and looked down, ruffling the Inquisitor’s hair and causing him to pout. "Vashedan.”

"That’s not why I taught you Qunlat, Kadan.”

"Let’s not talk about why you taught me Qunlat." The Inquisitor glared into the dark of the hall, moving to flatten his hair down the best he could.

"Ah, but your screams make it sound so pretty." Iron Bull chuckled, not even flinching when the Inquisitor punched him in the side.

“Ashkost kata… Kadan.”

"What a glorious one it shall be, if done by your oh-so-talented hands."

The Inquisitor groaned, giving up. Letting Iron Bull leading him through the ever darkening halls of the Keep in silence.

Finally the two of them made it to the room, the Inquisitor unlocking it and wearily stumbling inside. Iron Bull stepped after him and closed the door, turning to see the Inquisitor flopped onto the silk bed. The man not even bothering to change out of his day clothes. Iron Bull let out another laugh, pulling his boots off before going over to the bed.

"Scoot."

"No, go away." The Inquisitor murmured into the bed, thoroughly enraptured by the soft, silken sheets.

He yelped as he was picked up, Iron Bull holding him up with one arm and turning down the sheets. The Qunari then slipped under the blankets and pulled the Inquisitor in with him, the Inquisitor burying his face in Iron Bull’s shoulder. 

"Better?"

The Inquisitor hummed and Iron Bull laughed again, pulling the Inquisitor closer.

"Sleep well, Kadan.”


	32. Cheap Shot (Romance)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pairing: F!Adaar/Iron Bull  
> Request: Lady Addar being teased by Iron bull  
> Theme: Welcome Distraction

"I expected you to be stronger." Iron Bull snickered, watching Adaar stumble halfway through a well placed hit. Iron Bull taking advantage and knocking her sword back.

"Excuse me?"

"Nothing, merely thought the great Inquisitor would be a muscled, beast of power. It was amusing when I first met you. Some of the rumors claiming the Inquisitor was a fifty foot Qunari, bulging with muscles, and leaving entire caverns in their wake."

"Are you saying I’m not strong or that I didn’t meet you expectations?" Adaar threw herself at Iron Bull again, stumbling as he let her blade slip to the side. His arm wrapping around her and pulling her against him, his eye sparkling with mischievous. Adaar shuddered as he leaned down, pine wrapping around her as his hot breath blew over her ear.

"Neither, you’re just a welcome surprise." Iron Bull chuckled and another chill went through Adaar, before Iron Bull stepped away.

The lack of his warmth and chiseled body registered just in time for Adaar to see the blade coming towards her, her instincts kicking in and rolling her out of the swords path. 

Her face burned as she saw Iron Bull’s smirk and what he did, registered in her mind.

"Are you so afraid of losing to me that you would use distractions!"

"You wanted me to push your limits right?" Iron Bull leaned on his sword, resting his chin on the end of the hilt. "Besides what is wrong about telling my lover how wonderful she is?"

Adaar growled, rolling her sword in her hands before rushing Iron Bull. His sword met hers and they locked as they both pushed with all their strength.

“Mmm, I could stare into your eyes all day. So full of fire and determination.”

"That so?"

"Yeah, but my favorite look…" Iron Bull suddenly knocked both of their swords away, his one hand wrapping around her sword arm and his other fingers wrapping around her horn. Adaar’s eyes widened and felt his fingers rub at the junction between her horn and her head, a involuntary rumble coming from in her chest. Her eyes shut, her mouth barely hung open, and she felt herself relax instantly, the hand on her arm wrapping around her. She dropped her sword, in favor of clutching his arm. "has got to be that right there, best look I’ve ever seen on your beautiful face."

Something akin to a purr slipped from Adaar’s mouth and she felt a blush across her cheeks, her eyes opening and staring at Iron Bull.

He leaned down and barely touched his lips to hers, before pulling away and dropping his hand from her horn.

"You’re such a tease." Adaar sighed, dropping her hand from his arm as well.

"Yeah, but I’m a winning tease." Iron Bull gave a lazy grin and Adaar huffed, smiling despite herself and leaning in for another kiss.

"This time."


	33. Without Fail (Friendship)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pairing: General, Friendship F!Adaar/Iron Bull/Sera/Varric Tethras  
> Request: Lady!mage!Adaar being teased by Varric, Sera and Iron bull about her being more innocent/naive/childish/clueless.  
> Theme: Innuendos

"I wouldn’t mind buttering a bit of that rump roast."

Adaar blinked at the dwarven merchant looking up at her.

"Ah, Dace. It’s been a while, has it.?

"Teth—Tethras, I see. Lucky bastard." The dwarf huffed, handing Adaar the enchanted greaves before shuffling away and mumbling.

"That was strange, do dwarves usually start conversation talking about food?" The Inquisitor blinked a few more times at the empty space, that had occupied the dwarf, before turning to look at Varric.

"Maker, every time." Varric sighed and ran his hand down his face.

"Oh, so it is a usual thing?"

"I don’t think he was talking about the dwarf, Inquisitor." Sera snickered from her place on the other side of Adaar, a chuckle coming from behind her too.

"You’re pulling our leg right? Completely messing with us?"

Adaar turned around and looked up at Iron Bull, the Qunari not much taller than herself and amusement sparkling in his eye.

"About what, did I miss something?"

"Of course not, unless you count the dwarf who wanted to take a roll in the hay with you." Sera snickered again.

Adaar ran the conversation through her mind again, walking away from the markets with her companions in tow.

"I’m positive he didn’t say anything about hay or a barn."

"Ancestors, you have to be kidding me. Let’s see, how would Rivaini put this. He wanted to dwarf your beard, saddle your horse, satisfy the demands of your Qun."

"I’m not of the Qun, Varric." Adaar heard a snort from the dwarf. "Alright, I can’t do it anymore. Sticky Fingers, you want to give this one a try?"

Sera caught up with the Inquisitor, walking alongside her and smiling wickedly.

"Come on Inquisitor, surely you saw that look in his eyes. Looking for a good time, wanting to knock boots, take a backdoor tour of your Keep.” Sera smirked and made a several gestures with her hands, the Inquisitor pausing.

"I…"

"Yes!"

"I’m still confused." Adaar looked at Varric and Sera, the former smiling wearily and shaking his head while the latter stared at her in disbelief.

"Inquisitor." Adaar glanced over as she felt a tap on her shoulder, Iron Bull having a similar smirk to the one Sera was wearing. He beckoned her closer with a finger and she leaned in, letting him whisper in her ear.

"Oh—OH! I—why—that—" Adaar flushed as Iron Bull leaned away smirking and she bowed her head, continuing her path through the city and refusing to meet anyone’s eye at the moment. "Um, Varric if we ever see that dwarf again, remind me to fry him alive."

Both Sera and Varric looked at Iron Bull, the mercenary grinning widely at them.

"Qunlat innuendos, dirty and very blunt little things. I believe you both owe me something."

Sera and Varric sighed pulling out their coin purses and handing the Qunari their wagers.

"So, who wants to try telling her first, about the blonde elf and his offer of an Antivan milk sandwich from last week?"


	34. Night Terrors (Romance)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pairing: F!Inquisitor/Cullen  
> Request: A female inquisitor and cullen fic?  
> Theme: Fort  
>  _Warning: Could be triggering to some people, contains elements of PTSD_

The Inquisitor sat curled up on the bed, her cheek rested against her knee as she ran her fingers through his soft hair.

Cullen had worried her greatly, earlier. A breach had opened nearby while she and some of her companions had been out on business, brave diligent Cullen had stepped up in her absence. He had rallied some of the soldier and a few of her companions and went to stem the flow of the demons and creature, sending a message that they would fight until she returned.

Sera and Dorian had been by Cullen’s side during the fight, according to them there had been a desire demon among the lesser enemies and something about it had triggered something in Cullen. When she had gotten there she had only seen the aftermath of his rampage, demons’ ashes and creatures’ corpses left to rot and Cullen stabbing at the long dead desire demon until he practically collapsed.

The silence afterwards was far more unsettling to her, Cullen moving sluggishly through the rest of his day and barely saying anything. Through dinner, debriefing, and even before they had lain down to sleep he had seemed so distant and unfocused, moving through the motions without acknowledging them.

The Inquisitor looked down as she felt Cullen tremble beneath her fingertips, a small whimper coming for him.

"Cullen?"

"Amell!"

She gasped as Cullen suddenly flipped, pinning her down with his arm across her throat and barely allowed her to breath. She looked up at Cullen, the way his wide eyes darted across her face before he pulled away hurt her.

"Cullen?" She sat up, staring at her Knight. He was hunched over himself, quivering and hiding his face in his hands.

"I’m sorry, I’m so sorry."

"I know, I know Cullen. I’m fine, are you fine?" She carefully crawled over to him, slow reaching out for him. Immediately he latched his arms around her and pulled her in his lap, burying his head in her shoulder. She gently ran her fingers through his hair again, keeping silent as she felt his tears run down her arm.

"I shouldn’t have done it! She should never have gotten in the way of my duty! It was stupid, I was young!"

"You did nothing wrong Cullen." She pressed a kiss to his head, curling further around him.

"It wasn’t her, she wasn’t real!"

"I’m real Cullen, I’m here. Breath for me, breath with me please?" She breathed slowly and loudly, smiling softly when she heard him breathing with her. 

Eventually he stopped shaking and she felt no more tears fall, his breath evening out to a smoother pace.

"I love you, Cullen. I’m here for you." Her smile widened as she felt him nod, his arms tightening around her before loosening. She gently moved her hands under his chin and brought his gaze to hers, her heart aching at the red rims around his eyes and the wet trails running down his face.

"How about we make a fort and then I’ll read something?" She smiled at him and felt accomplished when he smiled and nodded. She grabbed the pillows and blankets for their fort, Cullen pressing a kiss to her cheek as he grabbed a few as well.

"I’d like that."


	35. Riding the Bull (NSFW)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Pairing** : F!Adaar/Iron Bull  
>  **Request** : NSFW where Adaar has a nightmare and looks to Iron Bull for comfort?  
>  **Theme** : Promises  
>  **Content** : Sexual Situation

_All around her was smoke and bodies, a thousand dead and she was left standing. Men, women, children all gone while she still lived. Slowly the green of the Fade swirled around her, pressing in on her, suffocating her. The lone survivor, if only for now._

"Adaar." 

She jumped, the suffocating darkness disappearing and replaced by Iron Bull’s curious gaze. His hand wrapped around hers, the warm contact bringing her some comfort in her sleepy fog and spreading through her. 

"You alright Kadan?" He rubbed his hand up her arm and rested it on her shoulder, a shudder going through her and further awakening her from the haze of sleep at the feeling of cold, clammy skin meeting a hot grasp. 

Her nightmare was no more than a blur now, yet she could feel the fog of sleep being replaced by a fog of fear and uncertainty. Her bleary thoughts trying to press that fear deeper inside her and she struggled for an exit, a way to smother the feeling. 

"Kadan?" 

Adaar leaned over capturing Iron Bull’s lips and pulling herself closer to him, his hand slipping up her shoulder and tipping her head back for more. She deepened the kiss, searching for the familiar taste of whiskey and herb to distract her. 

She struggled for more, the sensations from her nightmare still linger upon her. She needed more contact, something to ground herself with, something to take her far away from the oncoming anxiety. 

She rested her hands on Iron Bull’s chest, rolling the both of them so he was on his back and she had him straddled. Only then did she pull away, pushing herself up and listening to harsh pants in the air. 

"I can think of worst ways to be waken up in the middle of the night." Iron Bull chuckled and she found it in her to smile, the smile twisting into something more devious as she slid herself down his burly body. A sharp hiss coming from him as she brushed over his hardening cock through his pants. 

She settled her thighs around his legs and leaned over him, one of her hands trailing down his wide chest. Her fingers following and dipping into each curve of his muscles, stopping only when they reached the waist of his trousers. She leaned over him further, pressing her lips against his collar bone and humming as she rolled her thumb across the bulge of his pants. The rumbling groan from him felt before it was heard and spreading heat surging through her body, the distant thoughts of her nightmare edging away. 

Having mercy, as little as it was, on her lover she quickly snapped the clasp of his pants open. Her hand slipping beneath the leather fabric and skimming across his sensitive, heated skin. A deep grunt pulled from Iron Bull and she pulled away, watching him wrap his hands tight in the silk sheets. 

"Sh—shit!" Adaar reveled in the sight of Iron Bull laid out before her, the rumbling groans spilling from his lips and roll of his hips as she slid her fingers along the throbbing skin beneath her touch. 

Adaar faltered as Iron Bull’s hand found its way to her knees, his palm smoothing upwards and her gown bunching up around it. She shivered as she was completely bared to the cold air of the room and his dark, heavy gaze. 

Her mind buzzed with anticipation and any thought beyond this Qunari and her pleasure was thrown to the darkness. There was only a need for more, one that filled her entirely with molten lust. 

She jerked as she felt his thumb nudge at her clit, a shudder of pleasure pouring into her and short gasp falling from her lips. 

Another gasp slipped from her lips as his other hand came up and wrapped around her horn, she trembled as he pulled her down. His face mere breaths away from hers and his face full of dark ecstasy. 

"Take it, Kadan. Use me for you pleasure, take what is yours." Iron Bull’s voice was nothing more then a sinful growl, something inside of her cracking at the sound and her need to ground herself in this moment whispered in the back of her mind. 

She slipped from Iron Bull’s loosened grasp, sitting upright and her hands seeking out his cock again. Iron Bull let out another loud growl, withering beneath her and bucking into her hold. She pulled his dick from beneath the leather, thumbing the tip and savoring the hiss that come from the delicious Qunari beneath her. 

Done with games and teases, Adaar levered herself over his cock. Her gown resting on her hips as she laid her hands on his chest. A mewl coming from her and a moan from him as she teased herself down upon him. 

Her entire being trembled as she slid all the way down, a whine coming from her as his length glided against her walls and created an almost unbearable friction. She lost herself in the rapture of feelings, overloaded and overwhelmed. She sought out the sleek feel of skin against skin, the taste of euphoria on her lips. Sweet sounds that slipped from her and rushed from him as she took all she could. Her peak seeming right upon her and still just out of reach. 

She felt her arms tremble as she got closer and closer to her climax, the growls and groans of her lover felt beneath her grasp as she clenched her hands. 

She rocked herself against him, pressing herself down harder and quivering with each thrust. The pulsing of his cock inside her and her own walls tightening and yielding to wave after wave of sweet bliss. Finally working herself upon the precipice of need, the pressure deep inside her threatening to spill. 

She whined as Iron Bull’s hands latched around her waist and held her still, the fine point of her pleasure tapering away. 

"I—Iron!" 

"S-so fuck—fucking beaut—beautiful. You need—need it?" 

"Yes!" She rocked against him, chasing her waning orgasm and letting out a sob. 

"Promise—promise me you’ll tell me wh—why." 

"I promise! I fucking promise!" She flexed her fingers again, scrambling for a hold. A scream falling from her lips as Iron thrust up and ran his thumb across her clit again. 

Everything in her and of her ran tight and her eyes snapped shut, the pressure inside her overflowing and spinning her loose with every wave and spasm of ecstasy. Her shout and pants rang in her ears and she could feel herself clench at Iron Bull, the warmth of her climax burning through her and relaxing ever muscle that had strained for the pleasure in the first place. 

She continued to pant, her arms giving out and she collapsed upon Iron Bull’s chest. Feeling the roar of his laugh more than hearing it through the muffled buzz in her head. She found so much contentment in the silence of her mind, the grim thoughts before replace with nothing more than a cloud of bliss. 

She moved sluggishly, folding her arms beneath her and resting her chin on them. She watched Iron Bull, his eye staring at her with adoration and his face looking as content as she felt. He chuckled again, his fingers finding the spot on her horn and pulling a soft growl from her. 

Briefly she remembered the promise he had forced out of her, her peace fading a bit. She licked her lips, wondering if talking was even within her ability. 

"K—Kadan? Are—do you—think I—I can do th—this?" 

"Is that what that was about then? Kadan, if anyone can do this, if anyone can stop this. It’s you." Iron Bull grinned, his hand dropping down, caressing her cheek, and gently grasping her chin. "Besides, I’m here. A giant wall of Qunari superiority standing between you and danger, and I’m not too bad at bed warming either." 

She laughed, pressing a kiss to his chest. Her spent energy finally catching up with her and she rubbed her eyes. 

"Get some sleep, Kadan. I’ll still be here when you awake. That, I promise."


	36. Daft, Dalish, Dwarf (Romance)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Pairing** : F!Lavellan/Varric Tethras  
>  **Request** : A no-nonsense female Dalish mage Inquisitor and Varric, where she (infuriatingly) find herself very much attracted to him  
>  **Theme** : Looks

Her own mind baffled her.

He was smaller than any elf she had known, he talked too much, he had far more hair than any sensible being needed, he often reeked of overly sweetened wine, and Gods he wasn’t even the same race as her.

She tried burning holes in the back of his jacket or at least find out just why she was attracted to him.

Maybe it was the way he spun tales with that so smooth voice of his, reminding her of her clan’s storyteller.

Perhaps it was the way he knew how to handle an arrow? That thing, he called it Bianca but she was inclined to believe it was a dressed up crossbow. Either way he knew how to use it, even without being allowed to touch it she knew only a true marksman could hit ever target with such an instrument.

Or maybe it was simply the surprise and amusement she got when he would tell stories of the Dalish. An elf he only ever referred to as Daisy having shared some of their tales and lifestyles with him. This Daisy having obviously chosen carefully what she told and the Inquisitor found herself benefiting from it.

Never had she heard the chase of Fen’harel woven so beautifully, than upon the tip of a dwarf’s silver-touched tongue.

The Inquisitor frowned, coming to realize where her thought had strayed. She dropped her gaze, glaring at the reins in her hands.

Dwarves were smelly, foul, rude beings; spent all their time underground and hated to savour the fresh forest air. Varric Tethras was a dwarf… a really bad dwarf. He failed to fit all the stereotypes of a dwarf, well all except he truly despised being out in the wilderness. She supposed that went along with him being unnaturally clean for a dwarf, dirt seeming to make him uncharacteristically uncomfortable.

“…sitor, Inquisitor!”

Her head snapped up, seeing the Seeker looking to her for some kind of answer.

“I’m sorry, what were you saying?”

“The Seeker wanted to know if you were feeling okay.”

Her eyes drifting over and seeing that frustratingly, charming smile aimed at her.

“I have a problem.”

“What, what is wrong?” Cassandra pulled her horse to a stop beside the Inquisitor. The Inquisitor narrowing her eyes at Varric.

“I don’t know what you’re doing dwarf, but I don’t like it and it needs to stop.”

“I’m… sorry? I’m not really sure what you mean, to be honest?” Varric cocked an eyebrow and the Inquisitor suddenly felt heat crawl up her neck.

“That! It’s—it’s. Just stop it!”

“Inquis—”

“That damn attractive look on you face! Get rid of it!” The Inquisitor scowling at the roguish dwarf, with his perfect chest hair and damn bright eyes, that always had a glint of mischief.

“In—Inquisitor.”

The Inquisitor whipped her head around, setting her glare of the Seeker.

“What!”

Varric cleared his throat and she found herself glancing between a blushing dwarf and flustered Seeker. Her words finally registering and she turned a deep red herself, looking at Varric.

“Inquisitor, I— I am flattered.”

“Yes—well good for you.” The Inquisitor nodded and adverted her gaze from the dwarf and riding to the head of her little group, barely catching the smirk on the dwarf’s face.

“So, it’s the chest hair, am I right?”

“Shut up, dwarf.”

“Thought so.”


	37. Taste a Daisy (NSFW)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Pairing** : Carver/Merrill  
>  **Request** : First time giving each other oral  
>  **Theme** : Restraint  
>  **Content** : Sexual Situation, Oral, Blow Job, Cunnilingus, Bit of Magicplay

Maker, she was trying to kill him and honestly he wasn’t so sure he minded. Everything he had ever dreamed or fantasized did not even compare to this. 

Carver coughed into his hand, leaning back on the door so it shut with a loud click. He was trying incredibly hard to keep his eyes on Merrill’s face and not trail them across her naked body, but losing the battle horribly. "Is this a bad time? I can come back later if it is, unless you don’t want to come back later or at all… Um…" A flush crawled up Merrill’s face and Carver found himself following it down and across her chest, before he mentally slapped himself back in place. Holy Andraste, he was supposed to have restraint, a militaristic level of restraint and yet it was failing him now. 

"N—No, I just—I wasn’t. Maker, it’s really hot in here." Carver looked away, feeling his own face heat up. 

"Really, I think it is kind of cold." 

Carver coughed again, trying to overwhelm the images of all the ways he could warm Merrill up. 

"So… Merrill. It’s—it’s good to see you, here… Did you need something?" Carver immediately kicked himself, remembering Merrill was standing stark naked in his bedroom obviously with reason. 

"Well, Hawke had said he wanted to visit for your name day and I didn’t know what to get you and Isabela mentioned a few things and…" 

Carver forced himself to swallow, glancing back at Merrill twirling her fingers and mumbling to herself. He was going to kill the piratess, thank her first, but still kill her. 

"Uh, well, th—thank you Merrill, but you don’t have to…" Carver stood stock still as Merrill smiled shyly and stepped up to him, her fingers playing with a bow that was tied around her neck. He hadn’t seen it before now and Maker take him, he wasn’t sure he should have at all. 

"I would really like to give you a gift, _ma vhenan_.” 

Carver couldn’t take it anymore, his arms wrapped around her and he hefted her up. His lips finding hers and he took advantage of her gasp to slip his tongue against hers. The taste of metal and sugar being strangely addicting. He felt Merrill shake against him and a giggle slipped out between their lips, Carver pulling away and stared at her. 

"What?" 

"It’s cold." Merrill giggled again, pressing her hands against Carver’s chest plate and he blushed realizing what had happened. 

"Ah, s—sorry." Carver set her down, his face going redder as he noticed how the cold had effected Merrill. Her rosy nipples standing at attention and the inside of her thighs glistening, the sight sending heat rolling through him. 

Quickly he unbuckled his armor, slipping it off and to the floor. He jumped when he felt smaller fingers dip under his chain mail, Merrill’s wickedly innocent smile on her face as she pulled it up and Carver helped pull it off. 

"Ah, M—Merrill!" Carver jerked again the slim, elven hands going straight for his pants. "Slow-slow down." 

"I’m sorry, I’m just nervous." Merrill fumbled with her bow again, looking down. 

Carver smiled, tilting her chin up with his finger and leaning down to press his lips to hers again, just realizing she carried the scent of daisies. Merrill’s arms wrapping around his shoulders and pulling him closer. 

Eventually, Merrill pulled away. Her hands coming down and tracing images into Carver’s chest, Carver enjoying the bare brushes of her skin against his. He felt as if she was painting heat straight onto his skin Her fingers traced around the mabari tattoo just above his heart, she leaned in pressing kiss to it. Gently she pushed against Carver’s chest, Carver letting her move him. He felt the back of his knees hit the bed and Merrill pushed harder, Carver falling back on the bed with a grunt. Merrill crawled over him and settling on his stomach, her warmth and wetness pressed against him. 

Carver took in the elven woman above him, far more than just gorgeous. He didn’t even have the words to describe what she was to him or what she did to him. No woman had effected him so greatly. 

She was so petite as well and if he hadn’t spent a good amount of time watching her… watching her fight he would think he could so easily break her. He knew better though, those large forest green eyes held dark secrets and forbidden power. 

"Maker, you’re wonderful." Carver reached up and cupped her cheek, Merrill leaning into his touch. 

"Your not so bad yourself, _ma vhenan_. Maybe some elf ears and vallaslin.” Merrill grinned, her fingers going back to tracing markings into his skin. 

He smiled as well, moving his hand up and tracing along the ridge of her own ears. His fingers pressing at the delicate point and he felt a rush of heat settle in his gut as Merrill mewled, tilting her head for more of his touch. His other hand coming up and tugging at her bow until it came loose. The satin ribbon slipping off the side of the bed. 

Merrill’s grin widened and she brought her hands to his shoulders, she leaned down pressing another quick kiss to Carver’s lips. 

"Ah, M—Merr—ill!" Carver trembled as her magic-laced fingers ran down his chest once again, the tingle of magic and heat pressing into him. The pressure of it all almost becoming unbearable as it all rushed deep within him. 

He gasped as the tendrils of magic left and Merrill moved away, the overwhelming feelings being pulled away until they lingered just on the surface. 

Carver watched as Merrill unbuttoned his pant and slid them down with his small clothes, his hips lifting up off the bed to help. He felt his face heat up as Merrill looked him over, her eyes focusing mostly on his heavy, reddened cock. 

"Are all humans that big?" 

"Ah, um…" Carver felt himself go redder, Merrill’s curious gaze meeting his embarrassed one. 

"Oh, that was rude wasn’t it, I’m sorry!" Merrill looking equally as embarrassed. 

"No, its okay! Really!" Carver went to sit up only to falter and choke when Merrill thumbed at the twitching head of his cock. 

"It’s very nice really. I haven’t seen too many and it was usually when I was helping Marethari with healing and the blanket slipped, but I’ve never really seen a human’s." 

Carver was baffled. How she was making such an offhanded remark, all the while he was withering beneath in tortuous pleasure? Her voice somehow making it through his gasps and groans. Dear Maker, how? 

"MAKER!" Carver shuddered as wet heat surrounded him, his eyes snapping open and he was lost on when he had actually closed them. His wide blown eyes capturing Merrill’s mischievous gaze, her lips mouthing over the warm skin again before slicking her tongue over the hardened skin. "F—Fuck!" 

Carver struggled against the want to thrust into her mouth, Merrill pulling back and smoothing her fingers and saliva down his sensitive cock. Her focus mostly on rubbing the tender spot right below the head of it, Carver finding it harder to control himself. His body pulled taunt and his head falling back. 

“I’m not hurting you am I? Isabela wasn’t sure how sensit…” 

"Sh—shit, Merrill please! J—ju—just more, please." Carver’s voice strained and he quivered, finding it in him to look back as Merrill removed her fingers. Her dark eyes still watching him as her wet lips finally slipped over him and her touch rested on his hips, his hand shooting down and curling in her hair. The weight of her hand, adding another sensation to the overwhelming flood of pleasure and yet reminding him he could still hurt her. His restraint was entirely focused on not fucking Merrill’s mouth until he reached completion, instead allowing her to do as she pleased with him. Her mouth unable to wrap around him completely, but not stopping her from licking and sucking at all she could get to. 

The pleasure within his gut rocked through him and he wondered if Merrill could feel him throbbing too. More pleas and curses coming from his own lips, his hips twitching and stomach clenching beneath her hands. Maker, he felt so light-headed and was lost in a daze, sensation after sensation stroking over him. 

"Maker, yes! M—Merrill. I—I’m so cl—AH!" Carver trembled as Merrill tightened her lips around him, wrapping her fingers around what she couldn’t reach of him and pressing tongue against him. The overload on his senses being too much and tipping him into his climax, his vision blurring for a moment and he forced his hips into only bucking up shallowly. 

He panted, coming down from his high and fluttering his eyes open again. A grunt coming from him as he felt Merrill’s tongue drag over the hypersensitive skin. 

“Me—Merrill, s—st—stop.” 

“Sorry, I wanted to get it all.” 

Carver groaned and looked down, Merrill smiling and somehow looking so utterly innocent even with reddened lips and a trail of his cum down her chin. 

“Maker, what in the Void are you?” Carver pushed himself up on shaky arms, running a hand through his hair. 

“Did you enjoy your present, Carver?” 

“Thoroughly, where did you learn—that, like—that?” 

“Isabela show me, she had this toy. It was actually quite accurate, it even had this tube in it.” Merrill grinned and Carver groaned, leaning in and licking his cum off her chin. The taste of himself being far more satisfying than it probably should have been, Merrill watching him with wide eyes. 

“My turn now.” Carver smiled, wrapping his arm around Merrill and laying back. Merrill’s eyes went wider and she splayed her hands on Carver’s chest to stop from falling, as he set her on his stomach again. Carver pleased to find her soaking wet, as her wetness was smeared across his skin. 

“Yo—you don’t have to.” Merrill’s face went red and Carver grabbed one of her hands in his. “I wa

nt to, if you’ll let me.” 

“But I don’t know what to do or what I like.” Merrill fidgeted, biting at her still red lips. 

“You don’t have to do anything Merrill and we can figure it out together.” Carver’s other hand came up and her stroked her hair back down, feeling her relax against him. Finally, Merrill nodded and Carver gently pulled her down pressing a kiss to her forehead. 

Merrill let out a squeal as Carver lifted her up again and set her with her thighs around his head, his arm locked around her waist and holding her in place. The sweet scent of her washed over him and lit the heat within him again. Carver started by licking up her slicked hips, Merrill’s gasp ringing in his ears and pushing him on. 

He savored the taste of her, so delicious and yet utterly indescribable, much like everything about Merrill. He pressed another kiss on the inside of her thigh, feeling her quiver above him. He then tilted his head up, pressing his lips against her and humming when she jerked. 

“Car—Carver, Gods!” Merrill’s hand coming down and tangling in his hair. 

The touch motivating him further and he parted his lips, carefully running his tongue along her opening. Barely teasing into her and pressing on the edge of her walls, the sounds she made spurring him on and helping him find every sweet spot. 

He took his time tasting her and lapping at her sweetness. Even going as far as to paint stripes with his tongue from the ridge of her walls down to the junction of her thigh. The very knowledge that Merrill was spread open for him, above him instilled him with pleasure. He reveled in every twist of her hips, the keens and groans that often held his name or that of an Elven God. Maker, Merrill made his name sound like that of God and he wished nothing more then to please her as such. 

He buried his face back in between her thigh, slowly licking and indulging in Merrill. His head tilting back slightly and he felt her little nub with his nose. He jumped, nudging it, as he felt a spark jump from the fingers in his hair and whimper came from Merrill. “

Please, please, please _ma vhenan_!” Merrill tilted his head back further and he caught on, his lips curling around the little button and lightly sucking. Merrill’s hands clenched and unclenched against his scalp, the elvhen trembling and cooing. “ _Ma—ma vhe—vhenan_ , can—can you. Ah, Gods lick, ple—please lick.” 

Carver hummed against her, content with the result of broken elvish that followed. He ran his tongue around her clit, tracing along to get a feel for every contour of her body. 

He expected the spark this time, though it didn’t stop the stroke of pleasure from it that shot through him. Giving in, he languidly ran his tongue up her clit. Pressing with his broad tongue and keeping a steady pace. His arm around Merrill clenching tighter as she shuddered and pulsed around him. 

A cry came from her as she reached her peak, Carver moving from her sensitive clit to lap at her as she came. Her walls clenching on his tongue as he drank her in. 

When Merrill finally relaxed, Carver carefully moved her off and to the side. He wiped away her essence from his face with his arm and he looked at Merrill when he heard her laugh. 

“You—you’re all w—wet, _ma vhenan_.” 

“Mmm, just like you.” Carver chuckled as well, reaching over the side of the bed for his pants. He slid them on, not even bothering to button them as he stood and walked over to the basin. He took the time to wipe down his face, before wetting a rag and going back to the bed to help Merrill. A smile coming to his face when he found Merrill curled up in the covers and hugging one of his pillows, her tired eyes watching him. 

“ _Ma’arlath, ma vhenan_.” 

“ _ma’arlath_ , Merrill.”


	38. A Little Teasing Never Hurt (Romance)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Pairing** : M!Inquisitor/Dorian  
>  **Request** : Male Inquisitor and Dorian? *flies away*  
>  **Theme** : Appearances

This. Was. Bullshit! 

He did it, he did it every time and always at the worst of times. In the middle of battle, during a meeting of the Inquisition, when the Inquisitor was assessing his troops. The damned mage would lean over so casually and whisper those things in his ear. 

The warm puff of breath that slid heat from his ear all the way to his gut, the barest touch that made him hyper aware of the other man’s body, hovering over his own, the way whatever was said brought that damned blush to his face, a small intake of breath as what the mage had said registered, and the way he had to force a swallow when images were conjured to match said words. 

Fuck, the mage was a blighted desire demon in disguise. The Inquisitor was almost sure of it, dammit. 

"Inquisitor?" The short breath against the Inquisitor’s ear making him still, his hands digging into the satin table cloth in front of him. "Ah, there it is. So you had heard me coming?" 

"I can hear you coming from a mile away, stealth and subtly is not your strong suit." 

"Mmm, I suppose not." The mage laid his hand on the Inquisitor’s shoulder and leaned in closer, his hum reverberating in the Inquisitor’s ear. 

"Dorian. Don’t." The Inquisitor clutched the satin over wood harder, Dorian’s hand resting on one of his and the Inquisitor barely stopped himself from jerking. 

"I don’t know what you mean, but I for one could use a bath after this." Dorian’s thumb ran over the Inquisitor’s fingers and the Inquisitor trembled slightly, wondering just where his lover was going with this and frankly not wanting to know. 

"A nice, steaming bath, perfectly warmed and perhaps you could join me. I will need someone to wash my back.” Dorian leaned in closer and the Inquisitor could feel the coarse hair of the mage's mustache brush against the rim of his ear, the hot, wet breath bringing heat to his face. 

A whimper left the Inquisitor, this was going somewhere bad and he was so torn between curiosity and propriety. The heavy, wool jerkin he was wearing feeling uncomfortably hot and restricted, despite having shielded him from the bitter cold only an hour ago. 

"Ah, yes, a wonderful idea I think. The both of us in a nice, hot bath, we’ll probably be pressed for space in the small tub. You don’t mind if we are wet, sleek skin to glorious, wet, sleek skin, do you? I will try not to move too much, I know what the barest contact can do to you. But maybe afterward I can thank you for helping with my bath by wrapping my slim fingers aroun—" 

"Inquisitor? Dorian?" 

The Inquisitor refused to look up from the so very interesting spot on the table, acknowledging Vivienne’s arrival with a nod. Not quite trusting his voice after that… close experience. 

"First Enchanter Vivienne." Dorian pulled away his touch and the Inquisitor made a small noise in his throat, having the decency to blush after. 

"Is there a reason you are bothering the Inquisitor? I’m sure there are some innocent that needs enslaving or a servant needing punishment." 

The Inquisitor did not need to see Vivienne, to know the disapproving glare she had pinned on him. 

"You wound me, First Enchanter.” Dorian’s teasing drawl lost to anger and true insult. The Inquisitor believed the Magister was different, desperate for a change in Tevinter, but convincing his other companions was not as easy. Thus the tension between Vivienne, the Inquisitor, and Dorian. She thought the Inquisitor was playing with fire and she believed he was just asking to be burned. 

“It is hard to wound something, with such thick skin.” 

“Yes, well. I was busy finding out the Inquisitor’s plans for this evening. After all there is much mingling and bridge building he must do tonight, rather than just relying on your alliances. I was recommending he talk to Lord Cyril. The boy has inherited an entire Chateau not long ago and his family is quite involved with the Empress’ court.” 

"Yes, well by sitting here with you, he is getting none of which done." 

"I agree, enjoy the rest of your night Inquisitor and we shall continue our conversation at a later time. Vivienne." Dorian patted the Inquisitor’s shoulder and nodded stiffly to the First Enchanter, walking away stiffly. 

"I would suggest you get on it, Inquisitor. The night will go on with or without you." 

He finally looked up at Vivienne and nodded, sighing as she walked away. The Inquisitor ultimately deciding that he should wait for his temperature to go down and the problem between his legs to disappear, before he rushed into the politics of the Orlesian ball. 

He loved, truly loved that man, despite the warning of some of his companions. But whatever Gods or Spirits above or below better help that man, because the Inquisitor was going to kill him.


	39. A Friendship (Friendship)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pairing: F!Lavellan/Varric Tethras  
> Theme: A Laugh

“Do you really think I care what color a moody, city elf’s undergarments were?” 

Varric looked over to the second moodiest elf he had ever known. She faced forwards on her grand hart, her stern face not matching the ridiculous string of words that came out of her mouth. 

“They were black or so Rivaini tells it.” Out of the corner of his eye he saw her shake her head, still looking as broody as ever. 

“I believe silence is what I asked for, yes?” The elf glanced over at her dwarven companion and he shrugged. 

“What can I say, I like to hear myself talk. Besides I learned a lot of things about elves when traveling with Daisy and Broody, you would be surprised. 

"Those were City Elves, I am Dalish.” 

“So was Daisy.” 

“From your stories, she sounded like an awful Dalish.” 

“So all elves aren’t plucky?” Varric managed to create a disappointing tone and an equally as disappointed look. 

**THUD**

Varric stopped his pony and looked back worried, he then let out a laugh. His dear leader had fallen off her mount and was deeply red in the face, she sent him a glare that was lessened considerably due to her bright, burning cheeks. 

“Silence, silence from here out or I will…I’ll…By the Creators, Varric.” The elf swept her hand down her face and then laughed. 

It was the first laugh he had heard from her. To him it sounded like success, like Chantry bells in the distance, like a beautiful start of a long and wonderful friendship. 

She finally stopped her laughter and hopped back onto her halla, continuing through the Hinterland hills with a small smile on her face. 

“Now how about I tell you about the time a mage, a pirate captain, a dwarf, and a junior walked into a Blooming Rose.” 

"How do you walk into a rose?” 

“With plenty of coin in your pocket, but that’s not the point.” 

_A beautiful friendship indeed._


End file.
